INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


BY 

ERNEST  HAECKEL 


M LiBRIRY 
3F  THE 

bbivemsty  »f  mnm 


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CONTINUED  ON  THIRD  PAGE  OF  COVER 


INDIA. AND  CEYLON 


ERNST  HAECKEL. 


TRANSLATED  BY 

MRS,  S,  E.  BOGGS. 


NEW  YORK 

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hughes 


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mTRODUCTIO]^. 


i«£  i Heinrich  Haeckel  was  born  in  Germany  in 
1834,  and  is  now  a Professor  of  Zoology  at  the  University  of 

wiH? 'n  He-  WaS  ^m0ng  the  first  Germau  writers  to  agree 

s^bonf' n7w’  fnd  !S  °,ne  -°f  the  foremost  leaders  in  that 
school  of  biologists,  having  published  several  works  on 

m W1'CVie  has  a<lvanced  some  interest- 
ing Jheo™s  of  lns  n-  For  earnestness  of  study,  and  for 
t(he  forcible  and  lucid  manner  in  which  Prof.  Haeckel  ex- 

JTto-day3  ldeaS’  he  rankS  at  the  head  of  aI1  the  scientists 

veiioTiTnotT^ti11  th,e  fo!1°'villg  Pa£es  to  ?ive  a coherent 
version,  it  not  stnctly  literal  translation  of  Prof.  Haeckel’s 

interesting  “Letters  of  Indian  Travel,”  which  appeared  in 
serial  form  in  the  Rundschau  (1882).  Although1  the  ter- 
ritory traversed  by  the  Professor  is  no  terra  incognita  to  most 
readers,  and  many  travelers,  still  lie  writes  so  enthuTias- 
tically  and  entertainingly  about  subjects  which  have  here- 
tofore appeared  in  merely  scientific  dress,  statistics  reports 
“d  ^cyclopedias,  that  I trust  a version  of  them  will  be 
acceptable  to  the  American  reader. 

Translator. 


701495 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  PROFESSOR  ERNST  HAECKEL. 


TRANSLATED  BY  S.  E.  BOGGS. 

i 


I. 

Ok  the  Way  to  Ikdia. 

“ Really  going  to  India?”  questioned  my  friends  in  J ena; 
and,  Really  going  to  India,  I repeated,  I know  not  how 
often  after  I,  at  the  close  of  the  past  winter,  fully  im- 
pressed with  the  melancholy  dreariness  of  our  North-Ger- 
man February,  decided  to  spend  the  next  winter  in  the 
tropical  sunshine  of  that  wonder-island  Ceylon. 

In  this  age  of  travel,  when  no  part  of  our  globe  is  spared 
by  the  adventuresome  tourist,  a voyage  to  India  is  no  great 
feat.  We  speed  across  the  most  distant  seas  in  the  com- 
fortable and  luxurious  steamships  of  the  present,  in  less 
time,  and  with  less  ceremony  and  fewer  accidents,  than  at- 
tended the  dreaded  journey  to  Italy  a hundred  years  ago. 
Even  a “ tour  around  the  world  in  eighty  days”  is  become  a 
familiar  thought;  and  many  inexperienced  cosmopolitans, 
who  possess  the  funds  necessary  for  such  a tour,  imagine 
that  it  gives  them  a better,  a more  comprehensive  “edu- 
cation,” than  they  could  obtain  by  ten  years’  hard  study  in 
our  best  schools. 


8 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


With  this  fact  in  view,  I can  scarcely  hope  that  my  jour- 
ney to  India  will  arouse  any  particular  interest — especially 
as  an  abundance  of  the  best  literature  descriptive  of  that 
wonderful  country  is  already  in  existence — and  I ought 
perhaps  to  apologize  for  asking  the  reader  to  accompany 
me.  My  personal  interests  as  naturalist  and  nature’s  friend 
alone  prompt  the  journey  I am  about  to  undertake. 

The  most  earnest  desire  of  every  naturalist  that  has  made 
the  organic  forms  of  life  a lifelong  study,  is  to  stand  face 
to  face  with  the  wonders  of  nature  in  the  tropics;  for  only 
here,  under  the  enhancing  influence  of  thg  sun’s  light  and 
heat,  are  developed  those  astonishing  types  of  form  com- 
pared with  which  the  flora  and  fauna  of  our  temperate 
zone  are  but  weak  and  colorless  imitations. 

Already  as  a boy,  when  poring  over  my  favorite  descrip- 
tions of  travel,  nothing  charmed  me  so  much  as  the  primi- 
tive forests  of  India  and  Brazil;  and  later,  when  Humboldt’s 
“ Views  of  Nature,”  Schleiden’s  “ Plant  Life,”  and  Dar- 
win’s “ Voyage  Around  the  World  ” influenced  my" plans  for 
the  future,  a journey  to  the  equatorial  region  became  my 
chief  desire.  Believing  that  if  I were  a physician  I might 
accomplish  my  purpose,  I studied  medicine  in  addition  to 
botany  and  zoology;  but  a long  period  was  to  elapse  before 
the  realization  of  my  cherished  dream!  The  various  at- 
tempts I made  twenty-five  years  ago,  after  the  termination 
of  my  medical  studies,  to  accomplish  the  long-dreamed-of 
tropical  journey  were  of  no  avail.  I was  fortunate  enough, 
however,  to  spend  a whole  year  on  the  shores  of  the  Medi- 
terranean, absorbed  in  studying  the  multifarious  population 
of  its  waters. 

Soon  after  my  return  from  the  Mediterranean  certain 
professional  duties,  and  an  unexpected  change  in  my  pri- 
vate affairs,  thrust  all  plans  of  travel  into  the  remote  back- 
ground. 

On  Easter  of  1861  I entered  upon  a professorship  in  the 
"University  of  Jena,  a position  I have  occupied  for  twenty 
years.  During  this  time  my  vacations  have  been  spent,  in 
imitation  of  my  distinguished  master  and  friend  Johannes 
Muller,  in  studying  zoology  along  the  seashores.  An  ex- 
traordinary predilection  for  the  interesting  study  of  the 
lower  sea- animals — particularly  the  zoophytes  and  proto- 
zoans— gradually  led  me  to  visit  every  coast  in  Europe. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


9 


In  the  preface  of  my  “System  of  the  Medusae”  (1879)  I 
have  given  a summary  of  the  shores  on  which  I fished, 
sketched,  and  made  microscopic  observations.  But  the 
diversified  coast  of  the  Mediterranean,  whose  attractions 
are,  in  many  respects,  far  superior  to  any  other  place, 
always  remained  my  favorite  hunting  ground. 

I twice  crossed  the  boundaries  of  my  favorite  territory. 
The  winter  of  1866-67  was  spent  among  the  Canary  Islands, 
chiefly  on  Lanzarote,  a volcanic  island  almost  devoid  of 
vegetation. 

In  the  spring  of  1873  I made  a delightful  excursion  on 
an  Egyptian  war-ship,  from  Suez  to  Tur,  of  which  I give 
an  account  in  my  “ Arabian  Corals”  (1875).  Both  of  these 
journeys  took  me  to  within  a few  degrees  of  the  equatorial 
region — quite  near  enough  to  give  me  an  idea  of  its  exuber- 
ant vegetation. 

The  more  a naturalist  sees  of  our  beautiful  world  the 
more  desirous  he  becomes  to  enlarge  his  sphere  of  knowl- 
edge. 

Shortly  after  my  return  from  Genoa  (1880) — where, 
thanks  to  Mr.  Montague  Brown,  the  English  consul,  I 
obtained  many  zoological  and  botanical  treasures — chance 
threw  into  my  hands  Kansonnet’s  excellent  work  on  Ceylon, 
and  the  tantalizing  reminiscences  of  Portofino  made  the 
wonders  of  the  Indian  cinnamon-island  appear  all  the  more 
alluring.  I consulted  various  route-books,  and  was  re- 
joiced to  find  that  the  “struggle  for  existence”  between 
the  several  Indian  steamship  lines  had,  naturally,  reduced 
the  high  rates  of  passage,  and  had  doubtless  also  abated 
many  of  the  nuisances  formerly  attendant  upon  an  Indian 
voyage.  The  announcement  by  the  Austrian  Lloyd  Steam- 
ship Company  that  they  now  ran  two  lines  of  steamers  to 
India  (both  touching  at  Ceylon)  wras  of  special  interest  to 
me.  My  numerous  trips  on  the  Mediterranean  had  very 
favorably  impressed  me  with  the  Austrian  Lloyd,  and  I at 
once  concluded  that  through  them  I might  at  last  attain  my 
long-cherished  wish.  The  voyage  from  Triest  to  Ceylon,  by 
way  of  Aden,  requires  about  four  weeks.  Six  days  are 
spent  between  Triest  and  Port  Said,  two  days  in  the  Suez 
Canal,  six  in  the  Bed  Sea,  and  eleven  on  the  Indian  Ocean 
between  Aden  and  Ceylon.  Prom  three  to  four  days  are 
spent  in  touching  at  the  different  ports  on  the  route.  Ac- 


10 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


cordingly  a six  months’  leave  of  absence  would  allow  two 
months  for  the  voyage  to  and  from  India,  and  four  months 
for  travelling  in  Ceylon. 

Circumstances  which  need  not  be  here  mentioned  favor- 
ing an  immediate  decision,  I began  at  once  to  prepare  for 
the  journey.  Leave  of  absence  was  easily  obtained,  and  a 
generous  sum  of  money  for  the  collection  of  natural  curiosi- 
ties was  cheerfully  granted  by  the  Grand-ducal  Govern- 
ment of  Weimar. 

In  our  day  the  naturalist  who  goes  to  the  seashore  to 
investigate  marine  plant  and  animal  life,  requires  more 
than  a microscope  and  the  few  simple  instruments  of 
twenty — nay  ten  years  ago. 

The  methods  for  bfological,  and  particularly  microscopic 
research  have  wonderfully  developed  in  the  past  decade, 
and  a complicated  apparatus  is  now  considered  indispensa- 
ble for  the  performance  of  the  simplest  tasks.  Consequent- 
ly I was  obliged  to  ship  from  Triest,  sixteen  chests  and  boxes. 
Two  contained  only  the  most  necessary  scientific  w^orks; 
two  enclosed  a microscope,  physical  and  anatomical  instru- 
ments; two  others  held  the  implements  required  for  col- 
lecting, and  the  means  for  preserving,  specimens  of  Indian 
flora  and  fauna.  The  remaining  boxes  contained  several 
thousand  vials,  nets  of  all  description,  fishing-tackle, 
photographic  camera,  and  the  various  articles  I should  re- 
quire for  sketching  in  oils  and  water-colors;  a double-bar- 
relled gun  and  ammunition,  and  lastly  a supply  of  linen  and 
clothing  for  a six  months’  journey. 

In  face  of  this  imposing  outfit,  the  preparing  and  pack- 
ing of  which  caused  me  infinite  worry  and  labor,  I may 
consider  myself  rarely  lucky  in  that  not  a single  wish  con- 
cerning my  undertaking  remained  unfulfilled.  It  is  a well- 
known  fact  that  among  all  the  investigations  of  marine 
life  undertaken  in  late  years,  none  have  brought  to  light 
so  many  astonishing  results  as  the  deep-sea  explorations  of 
the  English  zoologists  Sir  Wyville  Thomson,  Messrs.  Car- 
penter, Murray,  Moseley,  and  others. 

Twenty  years  ago  it  was  believed  that  no  life  existed  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  that  organic  life  ceased  at  a depth 
of  two  thousand  feet;  but  the  deep-sea  investigations  of 
the  last  ten  years  have  substantially  confuted  this  erroneous 
belief.  That  the  ocean  is  densely  populated  to  the  depth 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON \ 


11 


of  twenty-seven  thousand  feet  with  creatures  of  various 
species  heretofore  wholly  unknown  has  been  proved;  and  it 
has  also  been  demonstrated  that  the  different  zones  of  the 
ocean  are  as  abundantly  supplied  with  diversified  plant  life 
as  are  the  different  flora-belts  of  the  mountains. 

The  unequalled  explorations  of  the  Challenger  expedi- 
tion were  confined  chiefly  to  the  Atlantic  and  parts 
of  the  Pacific  oceans;  the  vast  expanse  of  water  comprising 
the  Indian  Ocean  was  not  invaded,  except  at  its  most  south- 
erly boundary.  Consequently  an  almost  inconceivable 
wealth  of  new  and  wonderful  creatures  will  doubtless  re- 
ward the  naturalist  who  first  casts  his  perfected  deep-sea 
net  into  the  unexplored  basin  of  the  Indian  Ocean. 

Then  was  not  I excusable  if,  while  preparing  for  my 
journey  to  this  unexplored  region,  I wished  that  I might  be 
the  one  to  discover  hidden  treasures?  Even  though  the 
attempt  proved  abortive,  it  would  still  be  the  first ! 

But  deep-sea  explorations  are  a costly  pleasure,  even 
though  they  be  conducted,  as  I proposed,  in  the  simplest 
and  most  inexpensive  manner.  I could  not  think  of 
undertaking  such  a project  with  my  own  private  means, 
but  I hoped  to  receive  substantial  support  from  those 
institutions  which  were  founded  solely  for  scientific  pur- 
poses. 

In  this  I was  disappointed,  and  the  initial  investigation 
of  the  Indian  Ocean  remains  to  be  made  by  a more  fortunate 
explorer.  For  me  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  surface-water 
of  that  tropical  sea  will  yield  so  much  that  is  new  and 
interesting  that  my  brief  holiday  will  be  all  too  short  for 
the  full  solution  of  its  problems. 

In  contradistinction  to  this  and  some  other  far  from  agree- 
able experiences  while  preparing  for  my  journey,  I received 
the  warmest  encouragement  and  support  from  many  valued 
friends,  who.  directly  my  plans  were  made  known,  sought 
in  every  way  to  further  them.  My  heartiest  thanks  are 
due  to  Charles  Darwin,  Dr.  Paul  Rottenburg,  of  Glasgow; 
Sir  Wyville  Thomson,  and  .John  Murray,  Esq.,  of  Edin- 
burgh. Also  to  Professor  Edward  Suess,  of  Vienna; 
Baron  von  Konigsbrunn,  of  Gratz;  Heinrich  Krauseneck, 
and  Captain  Radonetz,  of  Triest. 

My  special  gratitude  is  due  to  his  royal  highness  the 
Grand  Duke  Carl  Alexander  of  Saxe- Weimar,  the  Rector 


12 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


Magnificentissimus  of  the  Jena  University,  and  to  the 
hereditary  grand  duke,  through  whose  kindly  agency  I re- 
ceived letters  of  introduction  from  the  English  Colonial 
Minister  to  the  governor  of  Ceylon. 

My  arrangements  at  last  completed,  and  the  sixteen 
boxes  sent  in  advance  to  Triest,  I was  ready  to  take  leave 
of  dear  quiet  Jena  on  the  morning  of  the  8th  of  Octo- 
ber. When  the  last  moment  arrived,  I found  that  a six 
months’  absence  from  home  would  be  no  easy  task  for 
the  father  of  a family  who  had  already  attained  the  age  of 
forty-eight  years.  With  what  different  emotions  would  I 
have  taken  my  departure  twenty-five  years  ago,  when  a 
tropical  journey  was  the  chief  aim  of  my  life!  True,  the 
experience  of  twenty-five  years  of  teaching  and  zoological 
study  would  enable  me  to  accomplish  more  than  I could 
have  done  a quarter  of  a century  ago.  But  I was  twenty- 
five  years  older.  Would  the  concrete  wonders  of  tropical 
nature  possess  the  same  fascination  for  me  now  that  I 
had  penetrated  the  abstract  dominions  of  natural  philoso- 
phy? 

These  and  kindred  thoughts,  together  with  the  most 
doleful  impressions  of  my  last  farewells  to  home  and  friends, 
passed  through  my  brain  as  the  train  bore  me  through  the 
cold  gray  autumnal  mists  which  enshrouded  my  beloved 
Saale  valley. 

Only  the  tallest  peaks  of  our  magnificent  muschelkalk 
mountains  rose  above  the  misty  sea;  on  the  right,  Haus- 
berg  with  his  “ rosy  radiant  summit,”  the  proud  pyramid 
of  the  Jenzig,  and  the  romantic  ruins  of  Kunitzburg.  On 
the  left  stretched  the  wooded  heights  of  Rauthal;  and, 
further  on,  Goethe’s  favorite  retreat,  charming  Dornburg. 
I waved  an  adieu  to  these  dear  old  mountain  friends,  and 
promised  to  return  to  them  in  good  health,  and  richly 
laden  with  Indian  treasures. 

As  if  to  ratify  the  promise  they  gave  me  their  friendliest 
morning  greeting:  the  dense  fog  suddenly  fell  from  their 
shoulders,  and  the  triumphant  sun  rose  into  a perfectly 
cloudless  sky.  Thousands  of  dewdrops  bhized  like  jewels 
in  the  azure  cups  of  the  lovely  gentians  decorating  the 
grassy  slopes  on  either  side  of  the  iron  road. 

I took  advantage  of  the  several  hours’  halt  in  Leipzig  to 
make  some  necessary  additions  to  my  travelling  equipments. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


13 


and  to  enjoy  a brief  view  of  the  noble  masterpieces  in  the 
public  picture  gallery. 

Then  on  to  Dresden  and  Vienna. 

After  a brief  halt  in  the  latter  city  I continued  my 
journey  to  G-ratz.  It  was  a glorious  sunshiny  Sunday,  and 
the  alpine  beauties  of  the  Semmering  glowed  with  splen- 
dor. It  was  twenty  years  ago  when  I botanized  in  the 
woody  ravines  and  flower-adorned  alp-farms  of  romantic 
Steiermark,  but  every  nook  on  the  Schneeberg  and  the  Rax- 
Alp  is  still  remembered  with  pleasure.  In  those  days  the 
youthful  Doctor  Medicinae  was  more  devoted  to  the  inter- 
esting flora  and  fauna  of  the  mountains,  than  to  the  in- 
structive clinics  of  Oppolzer  and  Skoda,  Hebra  and  Sieg- 
mund;  and  often,  while  gathering  the  hardy  alpine  plants, 
dreamed  of  the  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the  tropics  he  was 
now  so  soon  to  see. 

I spent  a day  in  G-ratz,  where  I found  really  excellent 
accommodations  at  the  “ Elephant  Hotel.55  Could  a more 
appropriate  name  have  been  found  for  the  first  hostelry  in 
which  I lodged  on  my  way  to  India?  The  elephant,  aside 
from  his  eminent  position  as  one  of  the  most  important 
animals,  is  conspicuous  in  the  armorial  bearings  of  Ceylon, 
and  I accepted  the  hospitable  treatment  of  the  G-ratz 
elephant  as  a favorable  prognostic  of  the  acquaintance  I 
hoped  soon  to  make  with  his  Indian  brother.  Just  here  I 
shall  take  the  opportunity  to  insert  an  observation  made 
for  the  benefit  of  my  travel-loving  fellows,  especially  for 
those  that  care  less  for  the  number  of  black-coated  waiters 
at  a hotel  than  for  attentive  service  from  them. 

A long  and  varied  experience  with  hotels  of  all  grades 
has  taught  me  that  the  traveller  may,  to  a certain  extent, 
judge  the  state  and  condition  of  these  useful  institutions 
by  the  titles  they  bear.  I have  divided  them  into  three 
classes:  the  zoological-botanic,  the  dubious,  and  the  dynas- 
tic. I have  found  that  by  far  the  best  of  the  three  is  the 
zoological-botanic,  as,  for  instance,  the  “Golden  Lion,55 
“White  Horse,55  “ Silver  Swan,55  “ Green  Tree,55  “ Golden 
Vine,55  etc.  You  cannot  be  certain  of  good  and  cheap 
accommodations  in  the  houses  which  I have  classified  as 
dubious,  and  which  have  no  affinity  with  either  the  first 
or  the  third  group;  they  bear  various  names  (frequently 
that  of  the  proprietor  himself),  and  are  of  too  hetero- 


14 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


geneous  a character  for  a definite  generalization.  I have 
had  chiefly  doleful  experiences — high  prices  and  inferior 
accommodations — with  the  dynastic  class,  such  as  the 
“ Emperor  of  Russia,”  “ King  of  Spain,”  etc.  Of  course, 
by  this  classification  I do  not  presume  to  establish  a general 
rule,  but,  on  the  whole,  I believe  that  the  critical  and  un- 
pretending wanderer  will  find  that  I am  right.  The  “ Ele- 
phant” in  Gratz  substantiated  its  claim  to  an  honorable 
place  in  the  zoological-botanic  class. 

Baron  von  Kdnigsbrunn,  a distinguished  landscape  paint- 
er in  Gratz,  who  had  heard  of  my  proposed  journey  to 
Ceylon,  cordially  invited  me  to  inspect  the  sketches  he  had 
made  while  on  that  island  in  1853.  The  baron  travelled 
through  the  palm  forests  and  fern  ravines  of  the  cinnamon 
island  in  company  with  Ritter  von  Friedau  and  Professor 
Schmarda  of  Vienna,  the  latter  of  whom  has  given  a com- 
prehensive description  of  the  island  in  his  “ Tour  Around 
the  World.”  Unfortunately  the  sketches  which  Baron  von 
Konigsbrunn  made,  and  which  were  originally  intended  to 
illustrate  Professor  Sehmarda’s  work,  were  never  published, 
a fact  to  be  regretted,  as  they  are  the  best  and  the  most 
perfect  of  the  kind  I have  yet  seen.  Alexander  von  Hum- 
boldt, certainly  a competent  judge,  who  submitted  the 
views  to  the  inspection  of  King  Friederich  Wilhelm  IV., 
expressed  for  them  his  highest  praise. 

These  paintings,  which  illustrate  Ceylon  vegetation  and 
scenery,  possess  two  different — and,  in  a measure,  opposing 
— qualities,  which  are  rarely  found  in  like  works  of  art. 
They  are,  a conscientious  adherence  to  nature  in  the  re- 
production of  details,  and  an  artistic  freedom  in  the  in- 
dividual treatment  and  effective  composition  of  the  whole 
picture.  Many  of  the  landscapes  by  our  most  celebrated 
artists  possess  the  second,  but  do  not  even  suggest  the  first 
quality;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  in  many  of  the  so-called 
views  of  vegetation,  by  practical  botanists,  the  absence  of 
aesthetic  perception  is  only  too  obvious.  For  a perfect 
picture,  the  synthetic  and  subjective  glance  of  the  artist  is 
as  necessary  as  the  analytic  and  objective  eye  of  the  natu- 
ralist; in  other  words,  the  perfect  landscape  must,  like  the 
portrait,  unite  striking  resemblance  to  the  subject  with 
artistic  perception  of  individual  characteristics,  and  this 
attribute  Konigsbrunn’s  sketches  possess  to  a wonderful 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


15 


degree.  I take  this  occasion  to  express  my  sincere  thanks 
to  the  modest  as  well  as  gifted  and  original  artist,  and 
hope  that  his  charming  works  of  art  may  soon  find  their 
way  from  the  obscurity  of  his  studio  to  a deservedly  promi- 
nent place  in  public. 

On  the  11th  of  October  I bade  adieu  to  the  multitude 
of  old  and  new  friends  in  Gratz,  and  continued  my  jour- 
ney on  the  Southern  Eailway  to  Triest.  In  the  same  com- 
partment with  me  was  an  elderly  gentleman  whom  at  a first 
glance  I recognized  as  English,  and  our  first  half-hour’s 
conversation  revealed  a very  interesting  personage.  It  was 
Surgeon-general  J.  Macbeth,  who  had  spent  thirty-three 
years  in  India,  in  the  service  of  his  mother  country.  He 
had  taken  active  part  in  a number  of  battles;  had  travelled 
throughout  India,  from  Afghanistan  to  Malacca;  had 
ascended  the  Himalaya  Mountains,  and  travelled  in  Ceylon. 
His  varied  experiences  on  land  and  among  different  peoples, 
as  well  as  his  observations  as  physician  and  naturalist,  were, 
as  you  may  imagine,  highly  interesting  and  instructive, 
and  I was  almost  sorry  when  our  arrival  at  Triest  near 
midnight  concluded  a most  enjoyable  conversation. 

The  three  days  I was  compelled  to  wait  in  Triest  for  the 
sailing  of  the  Austrian  Lloyd  steamer  were  passed  in  the 
society  of  old  friends,  whose  hospitable  treatment  made 
the  hours  pass  so  quickly  that  no  time  was  left  for  a 
visit  to  poetic  Miramare,  that  enchanting  castle  by  the  sea, 
whose  natural  beauties  eminently  fit  it  for  an  act  in  the 
tragedy  of  “ Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Mexico,”  a promising 
subject  for  the  dramatist  of  the  future. 

Nor  was  I able  to  make  an  excursion  to  Muggia  Bay,  the 
body  of  water  so  rich  in  sea  animals,  which  became  famous 
through  Johannes  Muller’s  discovery  of  the  curious  snail 
(. Entoconcha  mirabilis)  which  lives  in  the  sea-cucumber 
(Holothure).  Aware  that  the  Austrian  Lloyd  Company 
had  frequently  accorded  special  privileges  to  scientific 
travellers,  I hoped  to  obtain  similar  favors.  I was  success- 
ful beyond  my  expectations,  and  here  express  my  gratitude 
to  the  manager  of  the  line,  Baron  Marco  di  Morpurgo,  and 
to  the  directors,  among  whom  is  my  esteemed  friend  Captain 
Badonetz. 

And  now  to  embark  1 

I had  my  choice  between  the  two  splendid  ships  which 


16 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


sailed  at  the  same  time  (15th  October).  The  Helios  touched 
at  Aden,  Bombay — where  she  remained  eight  days — Ceylon, 
Singapore,  and  Hong  Kong.  The  Polluce  touched  at 
Jedda  (the  famous  port  of  Mecca),  Aden,  Ceylon,  and 
Calcutta.  I chose  the  former  vessel,  which  would  give  me 
a chance  to  visit  Bombay  and  obtain  a view  of  the  Indian 
peninsula.  Besides,  the  Helios , which  was  the  better, 
faster,  and  larger  of  the  two  ships,  was  almost  new,  and  of 
very  attractive  appearance.  In  addition  to  this,  the  name 
had  a peculiar  fascination  for  me.  Could  a more  auspicious 
title  than  that  of  the  ever-young  sun-god  be  found  for  the 
vessel  which  was  to  bear  me  from  the  gray  fog-regions  of 
the  north  to  the  radiant  sunshine  and  palm  forests  of  the 
tropics? 

Nomen  et  omen!  Why  might  not  I as  well  as  my  neigh- 
bor cherish  a little  superstition?  Surely  I might  reckon  on 
the  favor  of  the  sun-god,  in  whose  honor  I named  a whole 
class  of  dainty  protozoans,  Heliozoa , i. e. , sun-animals! 
Therefore,  most  worthy  Helios , let  this  zoological  oblation 
kindly  dispose  you  towards  an  admiring  mortal,  and  safely 
bring  him  to  the  haven  where  he  would  be! 

The  very  first  days  of  the  voyage  proved  that  the  gait  of 
our  Helios  was  a capital  one.  Although  the  sea  was 
pretty  rough  there  was  comparatively  little  motion. 
Especially  pleasant  was  the  unusual  neatness  of  everything 
about  the  vessel;  there  were  no  offensive  odors  from  the 
kitchen  and  engine  room — odors  which  contribute  more 
towards  seasickness  than  the  rolling  and  pitching  of  the 
ship.  Consequently  I,  and  most  of  the  passengers,  escaped 
being  seasick.  The  weather  was  uninterruptedly  clear,  and 
the  sea  generally  smooth.  Of  all  the  voyages  I have  made, 
the  one  on  the  Helios  was  by  far  the  pleasantest.  Of 
course  the  agreeable  company  on  board,  and  my  cordial 
relations  with  the  ship’s  officers,  did  much  towards  making 
it  so. 

The  larger  half  of  our  company  was  composed  of  English 
army  officers,  government  officials,  and  merchants.  The 
other  half  was  made  up  of  Germans,  Austrians,  Bombay 
merchants,  and  a few  missionaries.  There  was  but  a 
meagre  representation  of  the  fair  sex:  only  one  German 
and  five  English  ladies.  My  amiable  country-woman,  who 
sang  and  played  on  the  piano,  contributed  not  a little 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


17 


towards  the  entertainment  of  her  fellow-passengers.  She 
had  spent  the  summer  with  her  children  in  Frankfort,  and 
was  returning  to  her  husband  in  Bombay — a semi-annual 
separation  between  husband  and  wife  practised  by  so  many 
German  and  English  residents  of  India  who  are  solicitous 
about  the  education  and  morals  of  their  children.  As  is 
generally  the  case  on  a voyage  of  considerable  duration,  the 
passengers  on  the  Helios  became  pretty  well  acquainted 
with  each  other,  and  formed  themselves  into  little  coteries . 
One  group  was  formed  by  the  missionaries,  among  whom 
was  a Mr.  Rowe,  an  American,  who  has  written  a very 
readable  book  on  “Every-day  Life  in  India;”  a second 
group  was  composed  of  the  English  officers  and  merchants; 
a third  comprised  the  Germans  and  Austrians,  the  ship’s 
captain  and  doctor,  and  myself. 

As  I have  said  before,  the  weather  during  the  entire 
voyage  continued  uniformly  fair;  the  sky  was  serene  and 
cloudless;  the  sea  smooth,  or  only  gently  undulating.  Our 
good  ship  made  every  one  of  her  ports  at  the  appointed 
time;  the  victims  of  the  demon  seasickness  were  but  few. 

This  uninterrupted  sameness  at  length  became  monot- 
onous. Reading,  writing,  cards,  chess,  music,  vocal  and 
instrumental,  everything  that  is  usually  practised  to  re- 
lieve the  tedium  of  a long  voyage,  had  been  exhausted  the 
first  week  out.  Consequently  the  five  periods  into  which 
the  day  was  divided  by  as  many  meal- times  grew  to  be  of 
more  importance  as  the  journey  progressed.  Unfortunately 
for  me  my  poor  German-professor’s  stomach  is  so  very  ca- 
pricious on  shipboard  that — although  I am  rarely  seasick — 
I always  lose  my  appetite,  while  that  of  my  fellow-passen- 
gers seems  to  increase  in  inverse  ratio  as  mine  diminishes. 
However,  this  condition  of  affairs  enables  me — as  objec- 
tive spectator — to  observe  the  colossal  capacity  for  what 
physiologists  term  the  “consumption  of  luxuries.”  I 
have  ever  cherished  a secret  admiration  for  our  able  cousins 
across  the  Channel,  whose  gastronomic  feats  far  surpass  our 
own;  but  what  I saw  accomplished  by  an  English  major  on 
board  the  Helios  exceeded  anything  of  the  kind  I ever  be- 
held! This  brave  warrior  enjoyed  not  only  the  five  regular 
meals,  with  a liberal  accompaniment  of  wine  and  beer,  but 
most  ingeniously  managed  to  dispose  of  all  manner  of 
toothsome  sweets  and  various  beverages  during  the  inter- 


18 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


veiling  periods.  To  me  this  gastronomic  wonder  seemed 
to  have  arrived  at  that  state  of  development  in  which  the 
perfected  digestive  organs  are  capable  of  constant  activity, 
and  I am  strongly  tempted  to  believe  this  activity  was  con- 
tinued throughout  the  night,  for  I frequently  saw  the  major 
stagger  from  his  cabin  at  unconscionably  early  hours. 

I have  heard  that  the  greater  number  of  English  resi- 
dents in  India  who  die  from  diseases  contracted  in  that 
country  invite  their  fate  by  excessive  indulgence  of  the  ap- 
petite. 

As  the  meals  on  board  an  India-bound  steamer  are  famous 
affairs — of  vital  importance  indeed  to  some  of  the  passen- 
gers— I may  as  well  give  the  curious  reader  an  idea  as  to 
what  composes  them.  Coffee  and  bread  are  served  at  eight 
o’clock  in  the  morning;  at  ten  follows  a general  breakfast, 
at  which  appear  eggs,  meats,  curry  and  rice,  vegetables  and 
fruits.  At  one  o’clock  tiffin” — which  is  a luncheon  of 
cold  meats,  bread  and  butter,  potatoes,  and  tea.  At  five 
o’clock  the  regular  dinner  is  served:  soup,  meats,  with  at- 
tendant relishes,  farinaceous  dishes,  dessert,  fruits,  and 
coffee.  Lastly,  at  eight  o’clock  in  the  evening  a meal  of 
tea,  bread  and  butter,  etc.,  concludes  the  list. 

Very  few  of  the  passengers  fail  to  make  their  appearance 
in  the  dining-saloon  at  the  appointed  hours.  After  meals 
the  passengers  promenade  the  deck,  or  recline  in  comfort- 
able Chinese  chairs,  and  discuss  the  never-changing  tint  of 
the  azure  sky  and  water. 

An  ever-welcome  incentive  to  increased  mental  activity 
are  the  different  marine  creatures  which  occasionally  ap- 
pear: dolphins  disporting  around  the  vessel,  gulls  and  pet- 
rels encircling  gracefully  overhead,  or  darting  down  upon 
their  finny  prey.  Sometimes  swarms  of  flying-fish  skim 
swiftly  across  the  crests  of  the  waves.  The  delicate  medusae 
always  charmed  me  most,  and  I was  only  sorry  that  the 
swift  course  of  the  vessel  prevented  me  from  securing  some 
of  these  beautiful  animals.  In  the  Mediterranean  Ocean, 
which  is  especially  rich  in  sea-nettles,  I saw  two  mammoth 
specimens:  a blue  Pilema pulmo,  and  a golden-brown  Coty - 
lorliiza  tuber culata , and  in  the  Indian  Ocean  a rose-colored 
Aurelia , and  a dark-red  Pelagia. 

The  voyage  from  Triest  to  Bombay  (twenty-four  days)  was 
accomplished  under  such  favorable  conditions  that  there  is 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


19 


scarcely  anything  of  interest  to  chronicle.  My  former  voy- 
ages in  the  blue  Adriatic  were  chiefly  along  the  picturesque 
shores  of  Istria  and  Dalmatia,  the  rosemary-scented  islands 
of  Lissa  and  Lesina,  on  the  latter  of  which,  in  1871,  I 
spent  a very  pleasant  month  in  the  Franciscan  monastery 
with  the  eminent  Padre  Bnona  Grazia. 

This  time  our  course  was  more  toward  the  west — toward 
the  middle  of  the  Adriatic,  as  we  were  to  land  for  several 
passengers  at  Brindisi.  Above  the  heights  of  Canossa 
hung  a black  cloud,  the  shadow,  perhaps,  of — but  I will 
not  introduce  politics  here! 

On  the  morning  of  the  17th  (October)  we.landed  at  Brin- 
disi. As  we  were  to  remain  until  noon  I went  ashore  to  view 
the  few  unimportant  remains  of  ancient  Brundusium,  and 
wandered  along  the  ramparts  to  the  railway  station.  This 
structure,  as  well  as  the  modern  city  itself,  is  not  what 
one  would  naturally  expect  from  the  ostentatious  title  the 
latter  assumed  at  the  opening  of  the  Suez  Canal : the 
“entrepot  for  the  commerce  of  the  world.” 

The  overland  mail  is  transferred  to  the  steamer  imme- 
diately after  the  arrival  of  the  mail  train,  and  the  passen- 
gers— those  going  to  and  those  returning  from  India — make 
the  change  from  the  cars  to  the  steamer  or  vice  versa  with 
equal  celerity,  seeming  in  no  way  disposed  to  rest  or  refresh 
themselves  in  the  only  hotel  in  the  place. 

Both  hotel  and  railway  station  were  deserted  the  morn- 
ing I was  there  ; and  not  a soul  was  to  be  seen  except 
the  telegraph  operator  and  a station  porter.  The  flat 
coast  with  its  vegetable  gardens,  plantations  of  reeds,  and 
scattered  date-palms,  is  very  uninteresting.  An  old 
cathedral  writh  a stately  dome  south  of  the  city  is  the 
only  object  worth  transferring  to  the  sketch-book. 

The  English  general  whom,  with  his  family  and  retinue, 
we  were  to  have  taken  on  board,  did  not  make  his  appear- 
ance— his  luggage  having  failed  to  arrive  with  him  on  the 
train — so  we  set  sail  again  at  noon  without  him.  The  fol- 
lowing morning  we  steamed  past  the  Ionian  Islands;  with 
pleasure  I hailed  the  sight  of  stately  Cephalonia,  and  greeted 
proud  Monte  Nero,  on  whose  snow  clad  height  I once  spent 
a memorable  day  in  the  shadow  of  a majestic  Finns  Ceplia- 
lonica — a noble  evergreen  found  only  on  this  island. 
Farther  on  we  passed  romantic  Zante — “ Fior  di  Levante” 


20 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


— sailing  so  close  to  its  southern  shore  that  we  could  plainly 
see  the  long  rows  of  vaulted  grottoes  and  eaves  in  the  red 
marble  cliffs.  In  the  afternoon  Epirus  appeared  on  our 
left,  and  on  our  right  the  solitary  island  of  Stamphania. 
Late  in  the  evening  we  passed  battle-stained  Navarino;  no 
less  attractive  and  picturesque  was  the  view  of  Candia, 
whose  southern  coast  we  skirted  on  the  19th. 

Fleecy  clouds,  scudding  before  a fresh  breeze  across  the 
deep  blue  sky,  cast  fleeting  shadows  on  the  rugged  bosom 
of  the  island,  and  occasionally  enveloped  Mount  Ida’s  snow- 
crowned  head.  The  next  morning  there  was  nothing  but 
water  on  every  side;  but  the  increasing  warmth  of  the 
temperature,  which  made  us  change  our  heavy  clothing  for 
lighter  summer  attire,  apprised  us  of  the  nearness  of  the 
African  coast. 

When  we  went  on  deck  on  the  morning  of  the  21st  the 
Egyptian  shores  were  not  yet  in  sight,  but  the  water  of  the 
Mediterranean  had  lost  its  incomparable  azure  tint,  and  was 
of  a greenish  hue  that,  as  the  ship  progressed,  gradually 
changed  to  a dirty  greenish-yellow — the  effect  of  the  muddy 
waters  of  the  Nile.  And  now  appeared  numbers  of  tiny 
sailing  craft,  principally  Arabian  fishing-boats.  A huge 
sea-turtle  drifted  past  the  vessel;  several  land-birds  flew  on 
board,  and  at  twelve  o’clock  noon  we  sighted  the  light 
tower  of  Damietta.  At  four  o’clock  a small  steam  launch 
brought  a pilot  to  the  Helios , and  an  hour  later  we  cast 
anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Port  Said,  which  is  at  the  northern 
entrance  of  the  Suez  Canal.  The  Helios  remained  here  a 
day  to  take  in  coal  and  provisions.  In  the  evening  I and 
a number  of  the  passengers  went  ashore  to  a cafe , where  we 
met  the  doctor  of  the  Polluce  and  several  of  her  passengers 
— that  ship  having  arrived  at  the  same  time  with  the  Helios. 

The  following  morning  I mounted  to  the  top  of  the  light- 
tower,  which  is  160  feet  high — the  tallest  in  the  world.  Its 
electric  light  is  seen  at  a distance  of  twenty-one  nautical 
miles.  The  massive  walls  of  the  tower  are  built  of  the 
same  material  as  that  in  the  moles  of  the  harbor — an  arti- 
ficial stone  which  is  composed  of  two  parts  sand  and  one 
part  hydraulic  lime.  The  view  from  the  tower  did  not 
come  up  with  my  expectations,  as,  with  the  exception  of 
the  town  itself,  and  the  flat  stretches  of  sand  surrounding 
it,  nothing  but  water  is  to  be  seen. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


21 


I next  visited  the  costly  piers,  which  were  constructed,  at 
an  enormous  outlay  of  money  and  labor,  to  protect  the  en- 
trance of  the  canal  from  its  two  principal  enemies:  the  mud 
from  the  mouths  of  the  Nile,  and  the  sand  from  the  desert. 
The  western  mole  has  a length  of  3000  metres,  and  is  con- 
siderably stronger  than  the  one  on  the  east,  wThich  is  only 
half  as  long.  For  the  construction  of  these  moles  30,000 
blocks  of  stone — each  of  10  cubic  metres,  and  20,000  kilo- 
grams weight, — were  required. 

From  the  harbor  I sauntered  to  the  Arabian  part  of  the 
town  which  is  separated  from  European  Port  Said  by  a 
stretch  of  sandy  desert ; both  quarters  consist  of  parallel 
rows  of  streets  whicli  cross  each  other  at  right  angles.  The 
motley  and  original  scenes  in  the  filthy  streets  were  the 
same  one  sees  in  every  smaller  Egyptian  city,  and  in  the 
suburbs  of  Cairo  and  Alexandria. 

The  European  quarter  is  composed  chiefly  of  shops  and 
stores,  and  has  perhaps  10,000  inhabitants.  The  expec- 
tations of  grandeur  entertained  by  the  founders  of  Port 
Said  have  been  only  partially  realized,  and  the  imposing 
“Netlierland  hotel”  already  wears  an  air  of  solitude  and 
desertion.  I purchased  a number  of  articles,  considered 
indispensable  by  the  voyager  to  India  ; among  them  a white 
broad-brimmed  sold  hat,  and  a comfortable  bamboo  exten- 
sion-chair. 

So  much  has  been  written  about  the  Suez  Canal — the 
wonder  of  modern  times — that  I shall  not  weary  the  reader 
by  repeating  well-known  facts.  We  passed  through  the 
greater  part  of  the  canal  on  Sunday  (23d).  The  morning 
in  Menzaleli  Lake  was  delightfully  fresh  and  clear ; thou- 
sands of  pelicans,  flamingoes,  herons,  and  other  aquatic 
fowl  literally  covered  the  sand-banks  with  which  the  lake 
is  interspersed.  After  crossing  Abu  Ballah  Lake  we  en- 
tered the  narrowest  part  of  the  canal  at  El  Guisr,  where, 
occurs  the  deepest  cutting  in  the  whole  line.  The  high 
walls  of  sandy  soil  on  either  side  are  studded  here  and 
there  with  gray  tamarisk  shrubs  ; swarms  of  Arab  children 
appear  along  the  banks  and  clamor  for  backshish.  Several 
boys  play  the  flute  and  dance  with  considerable  grace.  At 
noon  we  passed  Ismalia,  the  deserted  city  founded  by  De 
Lesseps,  and  in  the  evening  we  anchored  in  the  Bitter 
Lakes. 


22 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


Travellers  to  India  dread  the  voyage  through  the  Red 
Sea,  it  being  the  hottest  and  most  disagreeable  part  of  the 
route.  Although  it  was  the  cooler  season  of  the  year  we 
on  the  Helios  were  fully  convinced  that  the  dread  afore- 
mentioned was  well  founded.  But  two  thirds  of  the  Red 
Sea,  or  Arabian  Gulf,  are  within  the  torrid  zone,  yet  the 
entire  expanse  of  water  composing  it  might  well  be  called 
a tropical  sea.  Similar  physical  peculiarities  characterize 
its  shore  from  Suez  to  Perim — from  30°-13°  N.  Lat.  In- 
deed the  dissimilarity  between  its  northern  and  southern 
extremities,  removed  from  each  other  by  a distance  of 
three  hundred  miles — is  much  less  than  the  difference  be- 
tween the  Red  Sea  at  Suez  and  the  Mediterranean  at  Port 
Said,  although  the  two  localities  are  separated  by  but  a 
narrow  isthmus.  But  this  bridge  of  land,  which  is  the 
connecting  link  between  Asia  and  Africa,  has  existed  for 
millions  of  years,  consequently  the  animal  and  vegetable 
population  of  the  neighboring  seas  have  developed  perfectly 
independent  of  each  other.  Those  along  the  Mediterranean 
shore  belong  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  while  those  of  the  Red 
Sea  country  are  allied  to  the  flora  and  fauna  of  the  Indian 
Ocean.  Both  shores  of  the  Red  Sea,  the  eastern  coast  of 
Arabia,  as  well  as  the  western  coast  of  Egypt,  are  almost 
devoid  of  vegetation;  not  a single  large  river  flows  from 
them  into  the  sea.  Above  the  sterile  shores,  on  either  side, 
tower  lofty  mountain  chains  whose  aspect  is  of  the  most 
forbidding  character.  Between  these  ranges,  which  glow 
with  the  intense  heat  from  the  sun,  the  narrow  Arabian 
Gulf  lies  like  a trench  between  two  high  walls;  here,  dur- 
ing the  hot  summer  months,  the  mercury  rises — in  the 
shade  at  noon — to  40°  R. ! I was  assured  by  the  officers  of 
the  Helios , who  had  made  the  voyage  during  these  periods, 
that  this  terrible  heat  was  almost  intolerable,  and  that  often 
they  had  been  afraid  reason  would  desert  them.  Even  yet, 
at  the  end  of  October,  the  heat  was  intense.  The  ther- 
mometer, which  hung  in  a shady  corner  on  deck,  registered 
from  22°-26°  R.,  and  once  in  the  “airy”  cabins  the  mer- 
cury rose  during  the  day  to  32°,  and  at  night  it  stood  at 
26°.  The  little  air  that  stirred  was  oppressive,  and  every 
attempt  to  mitigate  the  intense  heat  proved  unavailing. 
Every  window,  every  hatchway,  was  left  open  day  and  night ; 
two  rows  of  ventilating  chimneys  conducted  air  into  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


23 


hold  of  the  vessel;  the  punkas  in  the  saloons  were  kept 
constantly  in  motion.  The  air  from  these  huge  fans,  to- 
gether with  an  unlimited  supply  of  ice  water,  alone  enabled 
us  to  endure  the  excessive  heat. 

At  seven  o’clock  on  the  morning  of  the  27th  we  crossed 
the  Tropic  of  Cancer,  and  I breathed,  for  the  first  time,  the 
fervid  atmosphere  of  the  torrid  zone.  The  sky  directly 
above  us  was  perfectly  clear,  but  away  in  the  east,  above 
the  Arabian  coast,  loomed  dense  masses  of  storm-clouds 
that  were  illumined  every  second  by  flashes  of  heat  light- 
ning. There  was  a repetition  of  this  cloud-picture  in  the 
eastern  sky  every  evening,  but  no  rain-storm  came  to  re- 
fresh us.  The  first  three  nights  in  the  tropics,  the  mercury 
never  once  fell  below  25°  in  the  cabins.  I,  as  well  as  most 
of  the  gentlemen,  slept  on  deck,  where  it  was  at  least  three 
degrees  cooler. 

On  the  night  of  the  30tli  we  passed  the  straits  of  Bab- 
el-Mandeb,  and  the  island  of  Perim — the  Gibraltar  i>f  the 
Red  Sea — and  on  the  morning  of  the  31st  we  anchored  in 
the  Gulf  of  Aden.  Aden,  as  you  know,  is  situated  on  a 
rocky  peninsula,  that,  like  Gibraltar,  is  connected  with  the 
mainland  by  a narrow  neck  of  land.  In  1839  it  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  English,  who  fortified  it,  and  made  it  an 
important  station  on  the  route  to  India.  It  has  a popula- 
tion of  3000  souls.  Most  of  the  ships  stop  at  Aden  for  coal 
and  provisions ; but,  as  the  cholera  had  been  raging  there 
for  two  months,  and  we  were  not  certain  whether  we  would 
be  allowed  to  land,  we  had  taken  in  supplies  at  Port  Said. 
However,  on  landing  we  found  that  the  epidemic  had 
shortly  before  entirely  disappeared.  The  Helios  was 
immediately  surrounded  by  boats,  and  all  sorts  of  peculiar 
wares  were  offered  for  sale  by  the  dusky  natives — ostrich 
feathers  and  eggs;  lion  and  leopard  skins;  antelope  horns; 
formidable  saws  of  the  saw-fish;  dainty  little  baskets  and 
trays,  etc.,  etc.  I was  more  attracted  by  the  venders  of 
these  articles;  there  were  genuine  Arabs,  negroes,  Somalis, 
and  Abyssinians.  Most  of  them  were  of  a dark-brown  color, 
that,  in  some  shaded  into  a reddish  bronze,  and  in  others  to 
the  deepest  black.  Some  of  them  had  their  hair  dyed  red 
with  henna,  or  bleached  white  with  lime;  and  the  greater 
number  wore  only  a white  cloth  around  the  loins.  We  were 
greatly  entertained  by  the  swarms  of  dusky  children — from 


24 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


eight  to  ten  years  old — who  rowed  out  to  the  ship  in  tiny 
canoes  made  of  hollow  logs,  and  darted  into  the  water  head- 
foremost for  the  coins  flung  to  them  by  the  passengers.  As 
we  did  not  go  ashore  we  saw  but  little  of  the  town  and  its 
fortifications.  The  volcanic  rocks  on  which  the  houses  are 
scattered  are  rather  picturesque.  The  prevailing  color 
of  the  naked  walls  of  lava  is  a dark  brown  that  is  here 
and  there  relieved  by  the  dingy  green  of  a few  scant  shrubs. 
In  midsummer,  life  on  this  glowing  pile  of  rock  must  be, 
for  the  English  garrison,  almost  unendurable;  and  the 
officers  are  justified  in  naming  the  place  the  “ Devil’s 
Punch-bowl.” 

After  a six  hours’  delay  at  this  inhospitable  port  we  set 
sail  again  for  Bombay.  Nothing  of  special  interest  occurred 
during  the  eight  days’  voyage  across  the  Indian  Ocean. 
The  autumn  weather  was  delightful;  that  we  were  in  the 
influence  of  the  north-east  monsoon  became  daily  more 
perceptible.  Although  the  mercury  still  lingered  in  the 
neighborhood  of  20°  R.,  a fresh  breeze  mitigated  the  heat 
during  the  day,  while  the  cool  nights  convinced  us  that  we 
were  beyond  the  oppressive  influence  of  the  Red  Sea.  The 
water,  broken  into  ripples  by  the  fresh  wind,  was  constantly 
in  motion;  its  color  was  a delicate  blue-green — at  tiipes  the 
tint  of  lapis-lazuli,  but  never  the  intense  blue  of  the  Medi- 
terranean. Sometimes  the  sky  would  be  perfectly  clear; 
then  again  fleecy  clouds  would  entirely  obscure  it.  Every 
afternoon  dense  cloud-masses  gathered  along  the  horizon 
in  the  north-east  and  south-west,  and  these  the  setting  sun 
would  transform  into  the  most  gorgeous  spectacle — an  ever- 
new,  ever-changing  panorama  that  vanished  all  too  quickly 
from  our  admiring  gaze. 

I stood  for  hours  at  the  prow  and  watched  the  myriads 
of  flying-fish  that  darted  from  the  waves  at  the  approach 
of  the  vessel.  But  more  attractive  always  were  the  me- 
duae,  of  which  we  passed  scores,  blue  rliizostomes,  rose- 
colored  aurelias,  and  red-brown  pelagias.  I particularly 
regret  iny  failure  to  secure  a remarkable  siphonophora — of 
the  species  we  call  Porpita — that  passed  us  on  the  4th  of 
November. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


25 


II. 

A Week  isr  Bombay. 

A glorious  and  memorable  day  for  me  was  the  8th  of 
November.  On  that  day  I first  set  foot  on  tropical  earth, 
and  looked  with  astonishment  on  its  animal  and  vegetable 
wonders. 

A whole  hour  before  sunrise  I went  on  deck,  and  beheld 
advancing  through  the  mists  of  dawn  the  deeply-dented 
coast  of  Bombay,  above  and  beyond  which  rises  that  singu- 
lar range  of  mountain?,  the  “Bhor-Ghaut.” 

These  mountains,  which  form  the  boundary  wall  between 
the  extensive  table-land  of  the  Deccan,  and  the  flat,  nar- 
row coast  of  Concan,  the  littoral  lowlands  of  the  Indian 
peninsula,  are  composed  of  plutonic  basalt,  syenite,  and 
other  rocks,  and  are  so  cloven  and  crenelated  that  one 
almost  believes  one  is  looking  at  colossal  fortresses,  pago- 
das, and  battlements. 

The  morning  sky  was  tinted  with  delicate  evanescent 
hues  which  suddenly  vanished  altogether  when,  from  be- 
tween two  broad  belts  of  vapor,  the  splendid  Indian  Helios 
came  forth  to  greet  his  gallant  namesake  from  the  north. 
And  now  the  physical  details  of  the  approaching  shore 
were  clearly  revealed;  the  most  prominent  features  are  the 
extensive  groves  of  Palmyra  palms,  and  the  magnificent 
harbor,  in  which  thousands  of  ships  may  safely  ride  at 
anchor.  Of  the  city  itself  we  could  see  only  the  detached 
houses  of  the  Golaba  quarter  on  the  south-eastern  point  of 
the  island,  the  imposing  masonry  of  the  stately  fortress, 
and,  in  the  distance,  the  verdant  crest  of  Malabar  Hill, 
with  its  numerous  villas  and  gardens.  The  tumult  and 
bustle  among  the  shipping  in  the  roomy  harbor  was  very 
interesting.  Before  us  lay  two  white  ironclad  monitors, 
with  revolving  turrets,  most  efficient  defenders  of  the  tropi- 
cal city.  Farther  on  we  passed  two  large  transports,  on 
which  were  hundreds  of  English  soldiers;  and  still  farther 
on  we  wended  our  way  through  whole  fleets  of  steamers 
that  fetch  and  carry  freight  and  passengers  from  every  na- 
tion under  the  sun. 

Shortly  after  sunrise  the  Helios  anchored  near  the 
“ Apollo-bunder,”  the  place  of  debarkation;  sanitary  and 


26 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


customs  officials  came  on  board,  and  very  soon  the  company 
that,  for  twenty-four  days,  had  occupied  the  swimming 
hotel,  dispersed  in  all  directions.  Hurried  farewells  were 
spoken,  cards  and  good  wishes  exchanged,  then  each  one 
made  all  possible  haste  to  reach  the  long-wished-for  terra 
firma.  I was  invited  by  a hospitable  countryman  of  mine, 
Herr  Blaschek,  the  husband  of  the  German  lady  on  the 
Helios,  to  spend  the  week  of  my  sojourn  in  Bombay  with 
him  on  Malabar  Hill.  Knowing  well  how  the  traveller’s 
freedom  of  movement  is  restricted  by  the  disagreeable 
boarding-school  constraint  of  the  English  hotels  in  India, 
I gladly  accepted  Herr  Blaschek’ s invitation;  and,  although 
I was  surrounded  by  unusual  splendor  and  magnificence — 
indispensable  necessaries  to  the  wealthy  European  in  India, 
but  rare  luxuries  to  the  modest  German  traveller — I soon 
felt  perfectly  at  home  among  the  palms  and  bananas  of 
Blaschek  villa. 

It  is  of  course  impossible  to  become  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  a place  like  Bombay  in  one  short  week;  I 
shall  not,  therefore,  attempt  a detailed  account  of  its 
numerous  attractions.  I had  read  and  heard  very  little 
more  about  Bombay  than  that  it  was,  after  Calcutta,  the 
largest  and  most  important  city  of  British  India;  that  its 
commercial  reputation  was  world-wide,  and  that  it  had  a 
mixed  population.  I never  saw  in  any  of  our  art  exhibi- 
tions views  of  this  city  or  of  its  surroundings;  imagine  then 
my  surprise  when  I found  here  sights  which,  for  beauty  and 
grandeur,  can  be  compared  only  with  those  of  Naples  or 
Cairo — or,  better,  a peculiar  combination  of  those  two 
widely-dissimilar  cities.  Bombay  is  like  Naples  in  its 
charming  situation  on  an  undulating  and  verdure-clad 
shore,  its  insular  appendages,  and  its  mountains.  It  is 
like  Cairo,  in  that  it  contains  a motley  and  picturesque 
population,  representatives  of  every  clime  and  race,  and  in 
the  intense  hues  both  nature  and  art  have  given  their  mul- 
tifarious creations.- 

The  city  of  Bombay  is  situated  on  an  island  which  has 
an  area  of  twenty-two  square  miles;  it  lies  in  lat.  18°  56' 
long.,  72°  N.  56'  W.  The  island  was  first  discovered  and 
taken  possession  of  by  the  Portuguese  in  1529,  who  called 
it  Buona  Bahia  (Good  Bay),  because  of  the  large  and  ex- 
cellent harbor  which  encloses  it  and  the  several  adjacent 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


27 


islands.  (It  is  also  said  that  Bombay  is  derived  from 
Bomba-Devi,  the  name  of  the  Indian  goddess  of  the  sea.) 

In  1661  the  Portuguese  ceded  Bombay  Island  to  the 
English,  who  at  first  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with  their 
new  possession.  Its  development  was  hindered  chiefly  by 
the  extensive  marshes  which  covered  its  surface,  and  which 
were  supposed  to  render  the  climate  unhealthy.  When 
these  swamps  were  drained,  and  other  improved  conditions 
established,  the  island  rapidly  developed — especially  since 
1820,  when  Mountstuart  Elphinstone  assumed  the  reins 
of  government — and  in  the  last  fifty  years  Bombay  has  be- 
come the  third  largest  commercial  city  in  Asia. 

Its  present  population  is  perhaps  800,000  (including 
8000  Europeans  and  50,000  Parsees).  In  1834  there  were 
but  234,000  inhabitants;  in  1816,  160,000,  and  in  1716, 
only  16^000  souls. 

Bombay,  through  her  position  as  medium  for  the  entire 
trade  and  commerce  of  the  Indian  Orient,  and  as  connect- 
ing link  between  Asia  and  Europe,  has  again  attained  the 
prominence  which  was  hers  in  the  time  of  her  greatest 
prosperity,  the  antiquity  of  Alexandria.  Her  most  im- 
portant traffic  is  cotton,  in  which  she  is  surpassed  only  by 
New  Orleans,  in  North  America. 

The  immense  harbor,  as  secure  as  it  is  extensive,  is  the 
largest  and  best  in  India.  It  opens  towards  the  south,  is 
bounded  on  the  north  by  the  mainland,  on  the  west  by 
Bombay  Island,  and  on  the  north  by  a group  of  smaller 
islands.  The  island  is  rectangular  in  shape,  and  extends 
north  and  south;  bridges  connect  its  northern  extremity 
with  the  island  of  Salsett.e,  and  the  mainland.  The  greater 
portion  of  the  northern  half  is  covered  by  the  extensile 
palm-forests  of  Mahim.  The  southern  half  consists  of  two 
long  promontories,  which  are  said  to  resemble  the  uneven 
claws  of  a crab,  and  which  enclose  the  broad  expanse  of 
water  known  as  Back  Bay. 

Of  these  two  tongues  of  land,  the  western,  which  is  the 
shorter  and  the  higher — it  is  very  like  the  Posilippo,  near 
Naples — is  Malabar  Hill,  the  delightful  villa  quarter  of 
Bombay.  Beautiful  gardens  ornamented  with  luxuriant 
tropical  plants  surround  the  numerous  elegant  villas  or  bun- 
galows which  are  the  homes  of  the  more  distinguished  resi- 
dents of  Bombay.  On  the  eastern  tongue  of  land  is  the 


28 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


suburb  of  Colaba,  which  contains  the  cotton  market  and 
the  tents  and  barracks  of  the  English  soldiers.  At  the 
northern  extremity  of  Colaba,  between  it  and  the  fort,  is  the 
Apollo  bunder,  the  handsome  quay,  on  which  the  traveller 
to  the  Orient  first  sets  foot.  The  name  of  this  landing- 
place  is  not  derived  from  that  of  the  beautiful  Greek  god, 
but  from  pallow  (fish),  which  eventually  became  Apollo. 
Pallow-bunder  is  Indian  for  fish-market.  There  is  an 
excellent  hotel  on  the  quay,  the  only  large  and  first-class 
hotel  in  Bombay,  and  here,  on  the  balcony,  in  full  view  of. 
the  harbor  and  mountains,  I enjoyed  my  first  breakfast  in 
India.  On  the  esplanade  of  the  Apollo-bunder,  as  on  the 
Santa  Lucia  at  Naples,  the  greatest  activity  prevails,  espec- 
ially in  the  evening,  when  the  military  band  adds  music  to 
the  attractions  of  the  place,  and  the  wealth  and  fashion  of 
Bombay  appears.  Numbers,  of  elegant  equipages  roll  along 
the  bay  shore,  while  the  native  population  amuses  itself  in 
its  own  peculiar  manner  around  the  bonfires  on  the  strand. 
That  portion  of  the  island  between  Malabar  Hill  and  Cola- 
ba, is  occupied  by  the  two  most  important  sections  of  the 
city  the  “Fort,”  and  the  “Black  Town.”  The  former 
encloses  the  greater  part  of  the  European  quarter,  in  which 
are  to  be  found  most  of  the  public  buildings,  as  well  as 
most  of  the  counting-houses  and  offices  of  the  European 
residents. 

Most  of  the  public  buildings,  which  were  erected  at  an 
enormous  expense  in  the  last  twenty  or  thirty  years,  are 
imposing  structures,  with  the  Gothic  arches  and  peristyles 
of  the  Venetian  palaces,  architectural  characteristics  that 
are  strangely  at  variance  with  the  wanton  luxuriance  of 
the  tropical  vegetation  around  them,  and  the  motley  cur- 
rent of  Indian  life  surging  at  their  portals.  The  proper 
theatre,  however,  for  scenes  of  Indian  life  is  in  the  Black 
Town — the  quarter  inhabited  by  the  native  population. 
When  I first  visited  this  part  oE  Bombay  I was  vividly  re- 
minded of  Cairo.  The  public  display  of  Oriental  wares  in 
the  crowded  bazaars,  the  cries  of  the  venders,  the  gay  cos- 
tumes or  half-naked  forms  of  the  surging  throng  in  the 
narrow  streets,  the  tumult  of  vehicles  and  horses — all  these 
are  like  what  you  may  see  in  the  business  quarters  of  Cairo. 
But  the  longer  you  are  surrounded  by  the  turmoil  of  this 
Indian  city  the  more  apparent  becomes  the  difference  be- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


29 


tween  it  and  the  cities  of  Egypt.  The  north-western  por- 
tion of  the  Black  Town  (which  is  called  Girgaum)  is  of  a 
more  pleasing  aspect;  here,  in  the  shade  of  graceful  cocoa- 
palms,  are  picturesque  native  huts,  which,  with  the  nude 
children  playing  around  them,  the  gayly-dressed  women 
and  dusky  men,  pretty  zebus,  horses,  dogs,  monkeys,  etc., 
offer  a variety  of  the  most  enchanting  sujects  to  the  genre 
painter. 

To  adequately  describe  the  diverse  manners  and  customs 
of  Bombay’s  heterogeneous  population  passes  the  power  of 
my  pen.  The  Hindus,  who  form  the  largest  section,  are 
of  rather  diminutive  stature,  delicate  build,  and  dark  brown 
color.  The  Hindu  children  are  most  charming;  their  little 
naked  forms  are  to  be  seen  everywhere.  Even  the  adult 
males  of  the  lower  classes  wear  only  a narrow  scarf  around 
the  loins;  consequently  the  artist  or  sculptor  might  here 
with  advantage  study,  the  structure  of  the  human  form, 
the  youths  of  sixteen  to  twenty  years  offering  specially 
fine  models.  Indeed,  one  might  justly  call  these  shapely 
lads  the  “fairer  sex;”  their  features  are  often  refined  and 
noble,  and  distinguished  by  a dreamy  expression  that  is 
very  attractive.  There  are  also  some  neat  figures  among 
the  women,  whose  simple  flowing  garments  give  them  an 
exceedingly  graceful  appearance,  but  a really  handsome 
feminine  face  is  rare.  The  girls  marry  very  young — at  ten 
or  fifteen  years  of  age;  they  fade  quickly  and  become  ex- 
tremely ugly  old  women.  In  addition  to  their  natural 
homeliness  they  disdgure  their  faces  by  wearing  in  the  left 
nostril  a silver  hoop  adorned  with  precious  stones,  and  many 
of  these  nose-rings  are  so  large  that  the  mouth  and  chin 
are  covered  by  them.  The  women  also  chew  betel,  which 
stains  the  lips  and  teeth  a vivid  yellow.  The  forehead  is 
striped  with  various  colors  to  indicate  the  caste  of  the 
wearer,  the  arms  are  tattooed,  and  both  sexes  wear  silver 
bangles  and  rings  around  the  ankles  and  toes.  In  this 
garb  the  Hindu,  although,  he  is  descended  from  the  same 
race — the  Aryan — as  that  of  our  European  forefathers,  ap- 
pears a genuine  “savage.”  Caste  distinctions  and  the 
Brahminical  faith  prevail  among  them  to  this  day;  the 
Hindu  still  burns  the  bodies  of  his  dead,  and,  when  riding 
along  the  shore  of  Back  Bay,  you  may  see  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  the  railway  station  the  huge  ovens  in  which  by 


30 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


the  simplest  process  the  dead  bodies  are  transformed  to 
ashes — a more  convenient  and  less  costly  method  of  crema- 
tion than  is  at  present  practised  in  Gotha.  According  to 
the  census  in  1872  more  than  three  fifths  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Bombay  are  orthodox  Hindus  under  Brahminical  domi- 
nation; 140,000 — more  than  one  fourth  the  whole  number 
— are  Mussulmans,  and  only  15,000 — scarcely  one  forty- 
fifth — are  Buddhists.  A few  thousand  Jews,  Chinese, 
Africans,  and  a mixture  of  all  nationalities  make  up  the 
total.  Accordingly  you  may  imagine  the  heterogeneous 
character  of  the  throng  in  the  streets  of  Bombay,  and  guess 
what  an  infinite  variety  of  types,  forms,  customs,  and  man- 
ners are  here  mingled  together.  Perhaps  in  no  other  city 
on  the  globe  are  more  languages  heard  than  in  Bombay — 
especially  in  the  European  quarter,  where  every  known 
tongue  has  its  representative.  One  of  the  most  important 
components  of  the  population  of  Bombay — as  well  as  in  all 
Indian  cities — is  the  Parsee,  or  Guebre.  They  number 
about  50,000 — only  one  twelfth  of  the  whole  number — but 
their  enterprise  and  industry  have  won  for  them  such  in- 
fluence that  they  play  a prominent  part  in  all  the  affairs  of 
the  city.  They  are  descended  from  those  ancient  Persians 
who,  after  the  conquest  of  Persia  by  the  Mohammedans  in 
the  seventh  century,  refused  to  accept  the  faith  of  their  con- 
querors, and  clung  tenaciously  to  the  doctrines  of  Zoroaster. 
After  their  expulsion  from  Persia  the  Parsees  fled  to  the 
island  of  Ormuz,  from  whence  they  scattered  over  India. 
They  marry  only  among  themselves,  consequently  the 
purity  of  their  race  is  preserved.  Aside  from  their 
peculiar  dress,  they  may,  at  a first  glance,  easily  be  distin- 
guished from  all  the  other  races.  The  men  are  tall  and 
stately — most  of  them  corpulent;  they  have  yellowish  com- 
plexions, and  are  on  the  whole  a handsomer  and  more 
robust  people  than  the  effeminate  Hindus.  They  wear  a 
peculiar  long  white  cotton  gown,  wide  trousers  of  the  same 
material,  and  a tall  mitre-shaped  hat.  Their  features  ex- 
press energy  and  sagacity;  they  are  frugal  and  sober,  and, 
like  the  Jews  in  Europe,  thoroughly  understand  how  to  ac- 
cumulate large  fortunes.  Many  of  the  wealthiest  residents 
of  Bombay  are  Parsees.  As  hotel-keeper,  ship-builder, 
mechanic,  and  technicist,  the  Parsee  has  won  for  himself 
an  enviable  reputation.  They  are  justly  celebrated  for 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


31 


their  domestic  virtues.  The  dress  of  the  Parsee  farmer 
consists  of  a single  long  simply-fashioned  garment  of  some 
bright  color:  green,  red,  yellow,  etc.  The  wealthier  Parsee 
children  are  frequently  seen  driving  about  the  streets  clad 
in  the  most  gorgeous  raiment  of  gold  and  silver  embroid- 
ered stuffs.  Many  of  them  live  in  beautiful  villas,  sup 
rounded  by  all  the  luxuries,  and  no  doubt  arouse  the  jeal- 
ous envy  of  many  an  impecunious  Christian  from  Europe. 

A number  of  Parsees  have  founded  useful  and  beneficial 
institutions;  several  have  been  knighted  for  services  ren- 
dered the  British  Government.  The  public  spirit  and  enter- 
prise of  the  Parsee,  evidences  his  freedom  from  priestly 
domination.  His  faith — the  doctrine  of  Zoroaster — which 
is  one  of  the  noblest  natural  religions,  is  founded  on  a be- 
lief in  creative  and  sustaining  powers.  Chief  among  these 
are  the  sun  and  his  likeness  fire.  Multitudes  of  these  sun, 
or  fire-worshippers  may  be  seen  on  the  seashore  at  sunrise 
and  sunset,  devoutly  attesting  their  reverence  for  the  ap- 
proaching or  departing  god  of  day.  I confess  I never 
looked  with  more  sympathetic  reverence  on  the  devotions 
of  any  people  than  upon  these  pious  sun-worshippers. 

Are  not  we  naturalists,  who  believe  that  the  light  and 
heat  of  the  sun  are  the  primary  source  of  all  organic  life  on 
our  earth,  really  sun- worshippers? 

The  religious  practices  of  the  Parsees  are  extremely  sim- 
ple, and,  like  those  of  the  Mussulmans,  based  chiefly  on 
judicious  sanitary  laws,  as,  for  instance,  strict  dieatry  regu- 
lations and  daily  ablutions. 

In  consequence  of  these  rigid  observances  the  Parsee 
enjoys  perfect  health,  and  his  active  healthy  children  im- 
press one  more  favorably  than  do  the  pale-faced,  languid 
offspring  of  the  European  resident. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  customs  of  the  Parsees 
is  their  method  of  disposing  of  the  dead.  On  the 
rocky  crest  of  Malabar  Hill,  from  whence  the  admiring 
beholder  looks  down  on  a magnificent  panorama  of 
city,  sea,  and  bay,  the  Parsees  own  a beautiful  plot  of 
ground  which  is  ornamented  with  lofty  palms  and 
flowering  plants.  In  this  garden  or  cemetery  stands  the 
Dakhma,  or  “Tower  of  Silence.”  The  interior  of  this 
structure  is  divided  into  three  circular  or  concentric  cham- 
bers, each  of  which  is  in  turn  divided  into  numerous 


32 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


smaller  chambers.  The  inner  circle  is  for  the  bodies  of 
children,  the  next,  for  the  women,  and  the  outer  circle  for 
the  men.  When  a corpse  is  brought  to  the  cemetery  by 
the  relatives  it  is  received  by  attendants  clad  in  white 
robes,  and,  amid  the  chanting  of  priests  is  placed  in  one  of 
the  compartments  of  the  Dakhma.  Almost  immediately 
the  “ holy  birds  of  Ormuzd,”  the  sedate  vultures  perched 
on  the  Palmyra  palms  in  the  cemetery,  swoop  down  into 
the  open  tower,  and  in  a few  minutes  devour  the  flesh  of  the 
dead  body.  Swarms  of  ravens  follow  and  voraciously  swal- 
low the  remnants  of  this  feast.  Later  the  bleached  bones 
are  gathered  into  a receptacle  under  the  tower.  To  most 
Europeans  this  is  a horrible  mode  of  sepulture;  but,  as 
collating  zoologist,  I confess  I think  the  swift  destruc- 
tion of  a dead  body  by  vigorous  birds  of  prey,  or  by  fire, 
as  with  the  Hindus,  more  aesthetic  and  poetical  than 
the  slow,  wasting,  worm-eating  corruption  of  the  grave — 
a method  that  is  just  as  revolting  as  that  of  the  Parsees. 
Besides  it  is  in  opposition  to  all  sanitary  laws,  and  is  often 
the  source  of  dangerous  disease. 

Among  the  pleasantest  excursions  I made  while  in  Bom- 
bay was  one  to  the  palm-groves  of  Mahim,  in  company 
with  my  host  Herr  Blaschek.  It  was  a delightful  Sunday 
morning — my  first  in  India — and  I shall  never  forget  its 
many  charming  impressions.  To  fully  enjoy  the  perfect 
freshness  of  a morning  in  the  tropics  one  must  rise  be- 
fore the  sun;  accordingly  the  first  sunbeams  of  this  cloudless 
and  beautiful  Sunday  found  us  already  riding  among  the 
gigantic  old  banyans  at  the  northern  foot  of  Cumbala  Hill. 

The  native  huts  in  the  shelter  of  these  large  trees,  fre- 
quently entirely  hidden  among  the  root-branches,  were  the 
theatre  of  those  original  domestic  scenes  which  so  divert  the 
European  stranger.  Whole  families  in  the  costume  of  the 
Garden  of  Eden  squatted  along  the  roadside,  and  gave  ad- 
ditional lustre  to  their  brown  skins  by  copious  applications 
of  cocoa-oil.  At  the  same  time  affectionate  brothers  and 
sisters,  or  perhaps  parents  and  children,  were  engaged  in 
a vigorous  search  for  the  tiny,  slowly-creeping  insect  that 
populates  the  long  black  hair  of  their  heads,  but  being 
devout  Hindus,  and  not  permitted  to  take  life,  however 
insignificant,  the  little  captives  were  merely  set  to  one  side; 
some  of  the  natives  were  resorting  to  more  efficacious  reme- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


33 


dies — shaving  their  heads,  or  bathing  in  the  pools  by  the 
wayside.  Others  were  indolently  stretched  under  the 
trees,  or  among  the  branches. 

Far  more  interesting  were  the  sights  in  the  palm-groves 
of  Mahim,  where  the  “ toddy- tapper”  climbed  nimbly  to 
the  tops  of  the  tallest  palms  to  collect  the  sap  which  had 
accumulated  during  the  night,  or  dextrously  swung  him- 
self from  tree  to  tree  on  the  ropes  stretched  between  them. 
Other  native  laborers  were  busy  with  the  morning  meal. 

As  for  me,  I never  wearied  watching  the  lovely  effects  of 
the  sunlight  among  the  quivering  foliage  and  graceful 
stems  of  the  noble  cocoas,  and  on  the  giant  leaves  of  the 
bananas  at  their  feet.  Flowers  also  bloomed  everywhere, 
and  these,  as  well  as  the  butterflies  and  moths  hovering  over 
them,  were  noticeable  for  their  extraordinary  size,  gorgeous 
hues,  and  singular  form.  Here  and  there  waved  clumps  of 
graceful  bamboos  of  which  the  huts  scattered  throughout 
the  grove  are  built  and  thatched.  Along  the  paths  wan- 
dered all  kinds  of  domestic  animals,  pigs  and  dogs,  chickens 
and  ducks;  and  sporting  among  them,  the  charming  forms 
of  the  naked  Hindu  children  with  their  great  black  ques- 
tioning eyes! 

After  we  had  rambled  through  the  grove  for  an  hour  or 
more  we  set  out  for  the  seashore;  but  the  path  we  chose 
soon  led  us  to  an  extensive  morass.  Fortunately  a two- 
wheeled bullock-cart  driven  by  a Hindu  lad  came  up  with 
us;  we  climbed  into  this  elegant  conveyance,  and  after 
nearly  sticking  fast  in  the  mire  once  or  twice,  were  safely 
hauled  to  solid  ground.  On  the  shore  we  saw  groups  of 
the  curious  pandanus  or  screw-pines,  whose  adventitious 
roots  made  them  appear  as  if  standing  on  stilts.  The 
spiral  stem  forks  at  the  top  like  a candelabra,  every  branch 
bearing  a foliated  tuft.  Immense  cobwebs  from  one  to  two 
metres  across  were  stretched  between  the  branches.  These 
were  the  property  of  beautifully  marked  spiders  of  enor-  * 
mous  size,  their  bodies  alone  measuring  six  centimetres, 
and  their  slender  legs  ten  centimetres.  To  capture  one  of 
the  little  monsters  was  not  a very  difficult  task,  and  he  soon 
found  his  death  in  my  spirit  bottle.  The  threads  of  his 
web  were  astonishingly  firm  and  tenacious,  as  strong  almost 
as  linen  twine.  While  we  were  engaged  in  the  exciting 
spider-chase  a flock  of  green  parrots — the  first  I had  seen 


34 


INDIA  AND  GET  LON 


in  their  native  freedom — flew  screaming  from  the  tops  of 
the  palms. 

A succession  of  zoological  surprises  awaited  me  on  the 
sands,  which  the  ebb-tide  had  left  exposed  for  quite  a dis- 
tance. Here  I found  lovely  specimens  of  the  blue  medusa 
( Crambessa ) which  measured  more  than  a foot  in  diameter, 
and  a globe-fish  (. Diodon ) with  a prickly  hide  and  inflated 
abdomen.  In  the  sand  were  numbers  of  mussels  and  snails — < 
all  of  them  characteristic  of  Indian  waters — which  I had  seen 
only  in  the  zoological  collections  of  different  European 
museums.  I also  found  some  serpulidans,  a variety  of 
crustaceans  (among  them  the  nimble  sand-crab),  and 
numerous  fish  skeletons,  mingled  with  the  skulls  and 
other  parts  of  the  human  anatomy.  The  latter  were  the 
remains  of  the  low-caste  Hindus  who  had  been  buried  in 
the  sand  on  the  shore.  These  and  other  zoological  treas- 
ures filled  my  specimen  case  to  overflowing  when,  at  noon, 
we  set  out  on  our  return  to  the  city. 

Another  very  interesting  part  of  Bombay  is  the  sacred 
village  of  Walkeschwan,  which  is  but  a short  distance  from 
the  bungalow  of  my  host — between  it  and  the  governor’s 
house  on  Malabar  Point.  I frequently,  and  at  different 
periods  of  the  day,  visited  this  singular  precinct,  which  is 
inhabited  only  by  Hindus  of  the  highest  caste,  and  on  every 
visit  found  something  to  excite  my  astonishment  and  wonder. 
No  member  of  a lower  caste  is  allowed  to  defile  this  sacred 
spot  by  his  unclean  presence.  The  centre  of  attraction  in 
Walkeschwan,  as  in  all  other  sacred  communities,  is  the 
square  pool  or  tank  of  water  which  is  reached  by  broad 
flights  of  steps.  It  is  enclosed  on  all  sides  by  numerous 
temples  and  kiosks.  The  former  are  ornamented  with  the 
characteristic  white  domes — some  of  which  are  shaped  like 
a mitre,  others  like  a broad,  low  obelisk. 

The  temples,  like  the  huts  of  the  natives,  open  toward 
the  street;  in  the  middle  of  the  single  pillared  hall  lies  a 
sacred  bull  adorned  with  flowers.  Other  objects  of  adora- 
tion— singular  stone  symbols  of  the  Phallic  worship— are 
placed  at  various  points  throughout  the  village  and  its 
suburbs.  These  are  smeared  with  red  paint,  and  are 
devoutly  worshipped  by  childless  people  who  paste  bits 
of  gilt  paper  on  them,  and  by  offerings  of  flowers  hope  to 
be  blessed  with  offspring.  On  the  steps  of  the  temples,  or 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


35 


on  those  leading  to  the  sacred  pool,  crouch  the  holy  peni- 
tents engaged  in  most  peculiar  devotional  exercises.  Most 
of  these  fakirs  are  impostors  who  enjoy  their  dolce  far  niente 
at  the  expense  of  a credulous  and  benevolent  community. 
Their  naked  bodies  are  smeared  with  oil  and  ashes,  and 
their  long  hair,  which  is  never  combed,  represents  a pecu- 
liar kind  of  plica  Polonica — a densely-populated  zoological 
territory!  • 

One  merit  these  fanatics  may  justly  claim:  strength  to 
endure  persistent  self-torture.  One  old  fellow  has  kept  his 
fist  clenched  until  the  fiuger-nails  have  grown  through  the 
palm  of  his  hand.  Another  has  held  his  arm  in  an  up- 
right position  until  it  has  lost  all  feeling  and  power  of  mo- 
tion. A third  has  gashed  his  face  and  body,  and  by  con- 
stantly applying  ashes  to  the  wounds,  has  kept  them  in  a 
state  of  suppuration  until  he  is  a revolting  sight  to  behold. 
It  is  a well-known  fact  that  religious  delusions  will  lead  a 
man  into  all  sorts  of  madness  and  folly — especially  if  he  be 
under  the  domination  of  priestly  impostors — but  few  reli- 
gions require  the  extreme  measures  of  the  Brahma  cultus. 

My  frequent  sketching  tours  through  the  sacred  village 
enabled  me  to  study  the  habits  of  the  privileged  class  of 
idlers  frequenting  the  temples.  The  principal  occupation 
of  these  noble  Brahmans  who,  as  bona-fide  mendicant  friars, 
subsist  on  the  charity  of  the  superstitious  and  generous 
Hindus  of  the  lower  castes,  seems  to  be  a luxurious  inaction 
and  forbearance  from  labor.  Only  on  rare  occasions  is  their 
philosophical  indolence  interrupted  by  external  religious  ex- 
ercises— among  which  the  ablutionary  performances  at  least 
are  to  be  commended.  On  such  occasions  the  pool  is  filled 
with  bathers  of  both  sexes.  I was  greatly  amused  by  the 
merry,  clothing-disdaining  youths  that  crowded  around  me 
to  comment  on  the  sketches  I had  made  of  the  bathers. 
They  were  especially  diverted  by  the  caricature  I had  exe- 
cuted of  a howling,  wildly-gesticulating  fakir.  These  lads 
were  evidently  not  yet  infected  with  the  orthodoxy  of  their 
parents.  The  school  in  Walkeschwan  also  furnished  some 
interesting  subjects  for  my  sketch-book.  The  old  gray- 
haired teacher  was  immensely  gratified  to  learn  that  I was 
a colleague  of  his — a piece  of  information  I conveyed  to  him 
through  pantomime. 

In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  temple  of  wisdom  I had 


36 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


an  opportunity  to  learn  something  about  the  Hindu  science 
of  physics.  A difficult  accouchement  was  performed,  with 
the  most  remarkable  instruments,  in  the  public  thorough- 
fare, while  a constable  or  policeman  maintained  order 
among  the  assembled  lookers-on,  and  graciously  explained 
to  me  the  importance  of  the  affair!  Near  by  a second 
Hindu  Esculapius  by  a series  of  punches  and  thumps  was 
exorcising  the  devil  from  the  pain-racked  fofcn  of  a rheu- 
matic patient. 

The  celebrated  cave-temples  on  the  island  of  Elephanta 
were  also  visited;  but,  as  they  have  already  been  described 
and  illustrated  in  the  numerous  books  of  Indian  travel,  I 
shall  confine  my  observations  to  a brief  confession  of  disap- 
pointment. They  did  not  come  up  with  my  expectations;  I 
had  imagined  them  far  more  magnificent  and  imposing. 
Actual  beauty  is  out  of  the  question  in  the  grotesque  sculp- 
tures and  superfluous  ornamentation  of  the  Indian  tem- 
ples. The  disgusting  and  unnatural  combinations  of 
human  and  animal  forms,  the  deities  with  three  heads, 
distorted  features,  eight  arms  and  legs,  etc.,  are  extremely 
repugnant  to  me.  I am  one  of  the  few  heretics  who  share 
Goethe’s  opinions  of  the  “ distorted  and  crazy  temples  of 
Elephanta.”  However,  the  temples  of  Elephanta,  with  their 
sculptured  minutiae,  remarkable  pillared  halls  and  em- 
blems, cut  from  the  living  rock,  will  amply  repay  the  curi- 
ous visitor.  We  made  the  excursion  from  Bombay  in  a 
small  steam  launch,  from  which  we  had  a superb  view  of 
the  harbor  and  mountains  and  of  the  Concan  coast,  be- 
tween which  and  Bombay  lie  the  island  of  Elephanta,  and 
the  bare  red  rocks  of  Trombay  Island.  I shall  always  re-  r 
member  Elephanta,  for  it  was  there  I first  looked  on  the 
wonderful  exuberance  of  the  tropical  flora  in  its  natural 
state.  Of  course  I had  visited  the  Victoria  Botanic  Garden, 
which  contains  a number  of  the  most  beautiful  of  tropical 
plants,  such  as  palms,  bamboos,  bananas,  pandanus,  bread- 
fruit, papaya,  lotus,  pistachio,  etc.;  but  the  pleasure  I ex- 
perienced in  the  Garden  is  not  to  be  compared  with  my 
delight  when  I beheld,  on  Elephanta,  India’s  most  impos- 
ing flora  growing  with  the  wanton  luxuriance  which  is  in- 
tolerant of  garden  restraint.  Here  lianas  of  all  sorts,  and 
climbing  ferns  clothe  the  trunks  of  giant  teaks;  here  the 
noblest  cocoa-palms  incline  their  graceful  stems  toward  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


37 


shore  which  is  fringed  with  curious  pandanus  shrubs,  and 
fortified  to  the  very  water’s  edge  by  a wall  of  mangrove 
roots.  Here  the  parasitic  fig,  convolvuli,  and  other  creepers 
twine  around  the  black  upright  stems  of  the  mighty  Pal- 
myra palms.  Here  are  magnificent  banyans,  from  whose 
wide-spreading  branches  depend  huge  air-roots,  which  in 
time  take  root  in  the  ground,  and  become  supports  to  the 
mother  crown.  And  there — see!  there*  is  a powerful  mur- 
derer (a  parasitic  vine)  strangling  a noble  palm  in  bis 
deadly  embrace,  and  a little  farther  on  the  fellow’s  brother 
clasps  the  dead  trunk  of  his  victim  in  his  leafless  and  with- 
ered arms — the  tree  died  first,  then  the  same  fate  overtook 
his  murderer. 

Among  all  these  the  slender  bamboo  holds  aloft  his  huge 
bouquet;  bananas  and  plantains  expand  their  broad  green 
plumes;  deliciously -fragrant  blossoms  unfold  their  chalices; 
the  feathery  acacia  unfolds  its  delicate  canopy;  prickly  eu- 
phorbias interweave  their  stems  into  dense  hedges.  Thus, 
on  Elephanta,  the  tropical  vegetation  of  which  I had  read 
and  dreamed  for  thirty  years  became  at  last  a palpable 
reality. 

Among  all  these  vegetable  beauties  thousands  of  gor- 
geous insects  hung  in  the  sun-warmed  air;  huge  brilliant 
buprestidans  hummed  through  the  thickets;  hundreds  of 
agile  lizards  and  snakes  darted  among  the  undergrowth, 
flocks  of  gay-plumaged  birds  flew  screaming  harshly  from 
branch  to  branch — all  new,  never  before  seen  alive  or  out 
of  a museum ! 

And  yet  they  were  all  old  acquaintances.  Like  a happy 
child  I darted  after  the  enchanting  creatures,  laid  hold  of 
the  trees  and  plants  to  convince  myself  that  I was  not  dream- 
ing of  fairy-land. 

My  brief  stay  in  Bombay  admitted  of  but  one  extended 
tour  to  the  mainland — an  excursion  to  Lanaulie  and  the 
Karli  cave-temples.  In  company  with  a fellow-traveler  on 
the  Helios — Count  Hunvady — I left  Bombay  at  noon  on 
the  11th  of  November.  Delightful  weather  favored  us;  at 
times,  however,  the  sun  became  a trifle  too  ardent — the  mer- 
cury registering  in  the  shade  at  noon  30°  R.  The  nights 
were  proportionately  warm,  the  thermometer  once  at  mid- 
night marking  25°.  The  railway  journey  to  Lanaulie  is 
one  of  five  hours’  duration,  and  ours  drew  from  us,  besides 


38 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


copious  perspiration,  many  a sigh  over  the  torrid  atmos- 
phere. And  yet  the  first-class  coach  in  which  we  traveled 
had  all  the  modern  appliances  for  comfort:  the  double  roof 
projected  on  either  side;  there  were  blinds  and  green  glass 
for  the  windows;  cool  leather-cushioned  seats;  ingenious 
devices  for  ventilation,  and  best  of  all,  small  compartments 
in  which  one  might  refresh  one’s  self  with  a bath  in  cool 
water.  Each  of  the  first-class  coaches  contains  two  saloons 
which  accommodate  but  six  passengers.  The  seats  or  sofas 
— of  which  there  are  three,  two  lengthwise  and  one  across — 
are  transformed  into  comfortable  beds  at  night;  three  addi- 
tional beds  are  put  up  four  feet  above  the  lower  ones,  thus 
forming  six  couches  which  are  larger  and  much  more  com- 
fortable than  the  berths  in  the  cabin  of  a ship. 

The  traveler’s  portmanteau  is  disposed  of  by  the  porter; 
he  may  promenade  at  will  through  the  little  saloon  and 
enjoy  a view  of  the  fleeting  landscape  from  the  numerous 
windows.  The  prospect  was  of  exceeding  interest  to  me, 
and  I was  happily  able  to  secure  a number  of  satisfactory 
sketches  of  the  country  we  traversed  during  the  five  hours’ 
ride.  The  railway  which  traverses  a large  section  of 
Bombay,  passes  Byculla,  Parell,  and  Sassoon,  then  crosses  a 
bridge  over  the  narrow  arm  of  the  sea  between  Bombay 
and  Salsette  Islands,  then  another  bridge  to  the  mainland 
of  Hither  India.  Our  route  for  several  hours  was  over  the 
flat  lowland  of  Ooncan;  numerous  villages  of  wretched  bam- 
boo huts  and  several  larger  but  unimportant  towns  gave 
us  an  idea  of  the  Mahratta  population  of  this  region. 

During  the  rainy  season  (from  June  to  September)  the 
extensive  plains  of  the  coast  are  covered  with  a luxuriant 
growth  of  tall  grass,  and,  in  some  places,  are  cultivated 
with  rice,  corn,  etc.  When  we  crossed  them  the  vegetation 
was  withered,  and  the  broad  grassy  stretches  sere  and  yel- 
low. The  evergreen  plants  alone  retained  their  fresh  tint, 
the  banana  and  fig  trees,  and  that  important  treasure  of 
the  Concan  flora,  the  stately  Palmyra  palm  ( Borassusfia - 
lelliformis ).  Thousands  or  rather  millions  of  this  noble 
tree  are  everywhere  visible — now  in  groups,  now  alone — 
giving  the  lowland  its  characteristic  physiognomy.  Like 
the  cocoa  and  date-palms,  the  Palmyra  palm  is  one  of  the 
most  useful  plants — almost  every  part  of  it  is  used  for  one  or 
more  domestic  or  technical  purposes.  Especially  attractive 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


39 


were  the  groves  of  this  tree  on  the  banks  of  the  reed-fringed 
ponds  past  which  we  steamed.  These  miniature  lakes,  to- 
gether with  the  naked  brown  forms  of  the  natives,  the  two- 
wheeled bullock-carts,  the  wallowing  buffaloes,  and  the  little 
square  reed  huts,  formed  a lovely  picture,  beyond  which 
towered  the  jagged  crest  of  the  Bhor-Ghaut. 

At  Kurjut,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  the  light  loco- 
motive which  had  brought  us  from  Bombay  was  exchanged 
for  one  adapted  to  the  heavier  grade  (1.37)  before  us,  and 
soon  the  ascent  became  clearly  perceptible — rising  over 
2000  feet  in  a few  hours.  Numerous  turrets  and  viaducts, 
as  well  as  the  sudden  turns  of  the  road,  remind  one  of  the 
picturesque  roads  in  the  Alps — the  Semmering  and  the 
Brenner.  (The  steepest  grade  on  the  latter  is  only  1.40.) 

The  landscape  assumes  an  entirely  different  character; 
the  palms  which  abundantly  adorn  the  lowland  country 
disappear,  and  in  their  room  appear  mighty,  umbrageous 
forest  trees,  the  stately  tobacco  plant,  and  the  wool-tree 
with  its  immense  leaves. 

The  escarpment  of  the  tabular  highland,  which  in  some 
places  presents  a succession  of  steps  or  terraces,  is  here  and 
there  cloven  by  deep  gorges;  these  are  clothed  with  dense 
masses  of  shrubbery  which  give  the  mountain  a European 
character,  although  the  peculiar  configuration  of  the  Bhor- 
Ghaut  is  very  little  like  any  range  in  Europe.  Now  Ihese 
stupendous  rock-masses  rise  to  a perpendicular  wall  of 
more  than  a thousand  feet;  now  they  present  a succession 
of  broad,  truncated  pyramids;  now  a mural  front  whose 
battlements  and  turrets  at  a distance  appear  like  a mighty 
fortress.  Although  the  plutonic  masses  which  form  the 
Bhor-Ghaut,  .(they  are  principally  black  trap  and  basaltic 
syenite)  are  totally  different  from  the  stratified  sandstone  of 
our  Swiss  mountains,  yet,  in  its  exterior  configuration,  this 
isolated  table-land  in  some  places  is  strikingly  similar  to 
them. 

As  sudden  as  the  transformation  in  the  landscape,  from  a 
scene  of  tropical  splendor  in  the  19th  degree  of  latitude 
to  one  of  more  austere  character  in  the  53d  degree,  is  the 
change  of  the  air  we  breathe.  A breezy  coolness  succeeds 
the  oppressive  heat  of  the  lowlands,  and  it  is  with  unspeak- 
able delight  that  we  inhale  the  invigorating  mountain  air. 
One  only  fully  appreciates  the  benefits  of  a temperate  cli- 


40 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


mate  when  under  the  enervating  influence  of  the  tropical 
sun. 

The  higher  we  ascend  the  more  like  home  it  seems;  but 
this  allusion  is  rudely  dispelled  by  the  information  that, 
two  years  ago,  in  the  ravine  below  us,  an  English  officer 
was  killed  by  a tiger.  Two  streams  of  water  here  fall  from 
a considerable  height,  and  in  the  rainy  season  form  copious 
waterfalls;  but  at  present  they  are  mere  threads  of  mois- 
ture, and  sparse  yellow  grass  covers  the  spaces  which  are 
not  overgrown  with  jungle. 

Shortly  before  reaching  Lanaulie  we  passed  Matheron  Sta- 
tion, which  is  a favorite  summer  resort  for  the  wealthier 
residents  of  Bombay.  Beautiful  views  of  the  surrounding 
country  may  be  had  from  various  elevations  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. A singular  rock  formation  near  Matheron  is 
called  the  “Duke’s  Nose” — in  honor,  I believe,  of  the  Duke 
of  Wellington! 

It  was  quite  dark  when  at  seven  o’clock  we  arrived  at 
Lanaulie — 2100  feet  above  the  sea — and  found  really  toler- 
able quarters  in  the  diminutive  “hotel”  kept  by  a Parsee. 
Before  retiring  for  the  night  we  made  arrangements  for  an 
excursion  the  next  morning  to  the  Karli  caves,  Buddhist 
rock-temples  which,  in  extent  and  wealth  of  sculptures,  sur- 
pass all  others  of  a like  character  in  India.  We  engaged 
ponies  for  a five-o’clock  start;  but  when  we  made  our  ap- 
pearance at  the  appointed  hour  we  found  that  a stately 
coach,  drawn  by  two  horses,  had  been  substituted  by  the 
cunning  landlord  for  the  little  mountain  ponies  we  had 
hired.  Although  dissatisfied  with  this  arrangement,  which 
was  a more  profitable  one  for  the  landlord,  we  took  our 
places  in  the  coach,  which  conveyed  us  about  half  a mile 
over  a good  road;  then  we  were  obliged  to  continue  the 
journey  on  foot  for  more  than  a mile  through  fields  and 
meadows,  and  at  last  up  an  almost  precipitous  hill. 

The  caves  are  situated  half  way  up  the  western  declivity 
of  a trachjte  hill  that  rises  more  than  a thousand  feet 
above  the  plateau  of  Lanaulie.  The  Karli  cave-temples 
are  much  older  and  larger  than  the  Brahman  cave-temples 
of  Elephanta;  the  sculptures  are  less  complex  and  gro- 
tesque; the  representations  of  human  arid  animal  forms 
more  natural;  they  are,  on  the  whole,  the  most  perfect 
structures  of  the  kind  in  existence. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


41 


Like  the  temples  of  Elephanta,  and  many  others  of  a 
similar  character  in  India,  those  of  Karli,  as  well  as  the 
forms  of  man  and  beast  nrofusely  ornamenting  the  walls, 
are  excavated  and  cut  from  he  solid  rock.  The  lofty  in- 
terior of  the  Tschaitya  temple,  a gigantic  vault  resembling 
the  interior  of  a hollow  cylinder,  is  divided  by  two  rows  of 
''columns,  with  a broad  central  nave  and  two  narrow  side 
aisles.  The  numerous  male  and  female  statues,  elephants, 
lions,  etc.,  as  well  as  the  pillars  and  door-posts,  are  very 
ingeniously  carved  from  the  hard  black  trap-rock,  and 
smoothly  polished.  Above,  and  on  either  side  of  this 
temple,  are  a number  of  smaller  excavations,  from  which, 
at  our  approach,  flew  swarms  of  bats.  Several  priests  who 
pass  their  lives  in  these  solitudes  solicited  alms  from  us,  and 
while  they  mumbled  prayers  of  "gratitude  for  the  gifts  be- 
stowed, harsh  cries  sounded  from  the  rocks  above  us.  On 
looking  up  we  beheld  a number  of  large  black  apes,  which 
were  the  first  I had  seen  in  their  untamed  state,  and 
which,  on  comparison  with  the  dirty,  naked,  begging 
monks,  seemed  quite  respectable  as  ancestors. 


III. 

Colombo. 

Ok  the  21st  of  November,  amid  the  glorious  effulgence 
of  a cloudless  tropical  morning,  I set  foot  on  that  ever-ver- 
dant  wonder-island  on  which  I ‘was  to  spend  four  of  the 
most  enjoyable  and  edifying  months  of  my  life.  The 
Helios , which  had  brought  us  in  five  days  of  uninterrupt- 
edly fair  weather  over  a sea  as  smooth  as  glass,  from  Bom- 
bay to  Ceylon,  sighted  the  island  at  midnight  on  the  20th, 
and  the  first  gray  dawn  was  just  breaking  when  I went  on 
deck  to  behold,  as  soon  as  possible,  the  “promised  land” 
of  my  scientific  longings. 

Before  us  in  the  east,  above  the  dim  mirror  of  the  Indian 
Ocean,  lay  a slender,  misty  bank  that,  when  the  brief  morn- 
ing twilight  of  the  tropics  gave  place  to  the  swiftly  ap- 
proaching day,  revealed  itself  as  the  cocoa-fringed  west 
coast  of  Ceylon.  The  conical  peak  towering  conspicuously 
above  the  mountain  chain  of  the  central  highlands  was 


42 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


Adam’s  Peak — world-famed  for  the  superstitions  myths 
and  legends  which  envelop  it.  When  the  brilliant  sun  ap- 
peared above  the  mountains  we  were  able  to  distinguish 
a second  and  lower  range  of  hills  between  the  highlands 
of  the  interior  and  the  coast.  Soon  the  snowy-stemmed 
cocoa-palms  became  clearly  discernible,  and  on  approaching 
nearer,  the  salient  features  of  Ceylon’s  chief  city,  Colombo, 
also  stood  revealed. 

Directly  in  front  of  us  lay  the  fort  and  the  harbor,  on 
the  right  (to  the  south)  the  suburb  of  Colpetty,  on  the  left 
(north)  the  pettah,  or  “ Black  Town.” 

To  me  the  cloudless  sky  and  fresh,  aromatic  breeze  which 
favored  my  first  view  of  the  long-dreamed-of  island  were 
signs  of  good  luck.  Usually  in  the  morning  the  mountains 
are  either  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  heavy  mists.  The 
first  boat  to  approach  our  vessel  was  that  of  the  pilot  who 
took  us  into  the  harbor,  where  we  were  soon  surrounded  by 
boats  of  a shape  peculiar  to  the  South  Asiatic  islands. 
These  are  hollow  logs  of  perhaps  twenty  feet  in  length, 
three  feet  in  depth  and  scarcely  one  and  a half  feet  in 
width — so  narrow  that  a grown  person  cannot  sit  in  them 
without  placing  one  foot  behind  the  other.  At  the  extrem- 
ity of  two  elastic  outriggers,  which  extend  from  one  side 
of  the  boat,  is  a balance-log  that  gives  an  astonishing  degree 
of  security  to  the  frail  craft.  As  I had  occasion  later  to 
use  these  singular  canoes  for  my  zoological  excursions,  I 
had  an  opportunity  to  test  their  advantages  as  well  as  to 
experience  their  disadvantages.  At  first  sight  of  their 
picturesque  form,  however,  only  my  artistic  perceptions 
were  aroused;  perhaps  too  I was  influenced  by  their  Singha- 
lese crews — in  their  way  quite  as  rare  and  peculiar  as  the 
boats  themselves. 

The  natives  crowded  the  decks  of  the  Helios  and  offered 
for  sale  fruits,  fish,  and  other  products  of  their  country,  as 
well  as  trifling  articles  of  their  industry.  Most  of  them 
wore  only  the  “comboy”  or  “ sarong,”  a piece  of  red  cotton 
cloth  that  hung,  apron-fashion,  from  a belt  at  the  waist. 
They  wear  their  long  black  hair  in  a knot  fastened  at  the 
back  of  the  head  with  a tortoise-shell  comb,  a style  of  coif- 
fure that  increases  the  effeminate  appearance  of  their 
slender  figures,  small  feet  and  hands,  and  delicate  features. 
The  nude  black  Tamils,  whose  coal-boats  surrounded  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


43 


Helios , are  a sturdier  race  of  people  than  the  Singhalese; 
there  is  also  a marked  difference  between  these  two  races 
and  the  moormen,  stately  fellows  in  long  white  caftans, 
trunk-hose,  and  yellow  turbans,  who  deal  in  precious  stones, 
shells,  and  silver  ornaments.  The  prices  demanded  for 
these  articles  are  usually  three  or  four,  sometimes  ten  times 
their  actual  value;  one  of  our  passengers  paid  one  rupee  for 
a brilliant  stone  that  had  been  ofEered  but  a few  moments 
before  for  eighty  rupees!  This  “precious  stone, 55  like 
most  of  the  “gems”  of  the  “ Ruby  Island,”  was  nothing 
but  the  product  of  some  ingenious  European  manufacturer 
of  ground  glass.  Gems  of  this  sort  are  imported  from 
Europe  in  large  quantities  every  year. 

My  reception  from  Herr  Stipperger,  the  agent  of  the 
Austrian  Lloyd  in  Colombo,  to  whom  I had  letters  of  in- 
troduction from  that  company,  as  well  as  from  mutual 
friends  in  Triest  and  Bombay,  was  most  cordial.  Without 
further  ceremony  he  invited  me  to  become  his  guest  while 
I remained  in  Colombo,  and  did  everything  in  his  power 
to  render  my  stay  both  pleasant  and  profitable.  If,  during 
my  four  months5  sojourn  in  Ceylon  I saw  and  enjoyed, 
learned  and  accomplished,  more  than  many  other  travelers 
could  have  done  in  a whole  year,  then  I owe  it  all  to  the 
generous  kindness  of  my  “Singhalese  Providenza,55  as  I 
jestingly  dubbed  my  friend  Stipperger.  This  gentleman, 
who  is  a native  of  Vienna,  and  only  a few  years  my  senior, 
was  formerly  in  the  Austrian  navy,  from  which  he  entered 
the  service  of  the  Austrian  Lloyd  Company.  I can  only 
wfish  that  his  present  position  may  amply  recompense  his 
manifold  and  distinguished  abilities.  After  cordially  bid- 
ding adieu  to  the  officers  and  passengers  on  the  Helios , 
who  were  going  to  Singapore  and  Hong  Kong,  I quitted 
the  gallant  ship  which  had  brought  me  so  safely  and  pleas- 
antly from  Triest,  and  accompanied  Herr  Stipperger  in  a 
boat  to  the  land.  Through  the  kind  intervention  of  the 
latter  gentleman,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  official  documents 
from  the  government  in  England  to  the  governor  of  Cey- 
lon, my  numerous  luggage  passed  toll-free  through  the 
customs,  and  was  spared  the  usual  official  examination — a 
formidable  task  indeed  with  my  sixteen  trunks  and  boxes! 

From  the  quay  we  drove  to  the  office  of  the  Austrian 
Lloyd,  and  from  there  to  breakfast  in  a club-house.  Then 


44 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


I devoted  the  first  hours  after  my  arrival  to  making  several 
necessary  visits,  and  delivered  the  several  important  letters 
of  introduction  which  the  German  consul  at  Colombo,  Herr 
Freudenberg  (at  present  in  Germany)  had  been  kind  enough 
to  give  me. 

In  this  manner  I spent  the  morning  and  part  of  the  after- 
noon of  my  first  day  in  Ceylon.  By  five  o’clock  I was  ready 
to  accompany  Herr  Stipperger  in  his  light  two- wheeled 
calash,  drawn  by  a fleet  Australian  stallion,  to  his  residence 
“ Whist  Bungalow,”  which  is  a considerable  distance  (three 
English  miles)  from  the  business  centre,  or  “fort,”  of  the 
city.  Colombo,  like  Bombay  and  most  of  the  more  im- 
portant East  Indian  towns,  consists  of  a European  business 
quarter  in  the  “fort,”  and  several  suburbs  which  contain 
the  habitations  of  the  native  population. 

The  fort  at  Colombo  was  built  in  1517  by  the  Portuguese, 
who  were  the  first  European  sovereigns  on  the  island.  They 
landed  in  1505  and  remained  perhaps  150  years — about  as 
long  as  their  Dutch  successors  who  drove  them  from  the 
island.  Under  the  rule  of  the  Dutch,  as  well  as  under  the 
English,  who  took  possession  of  Ceylon  in  1796,  Colombo 
maintained  its  importance  as  chief  city,  notwithstanding 
many  other  places,  especially  Point  de  Galle,  were  in  many 
respects  better  calculated  for  the  first  ^lace.  In  late  years 
the  British  Government  has  strenuously  sought  to  establish 
Colombo’s  precedence  as  a first-class  seaport;  consequently 
it  will  doubtless  continue  to  occupy  its  prominent  position, 
all  its  unfavorable  conditions  to  the  contrary  notwithstand- 
ing. 

One  would  naturally  suppose  that  the  chief  requirement 
of  a first-class  seaport  would  be  a good  harbor.  This 
Colombo  has  not  got,  while  Point  de  Galle  has  all  the  ad- 
vantages of  an  extensive  and  natural  roadstead.  True, 
nowadays  harbors  may  be  constructed  anywhere  along 
a coast  by  dredging,  and  by  the  erection  of  substantial 
piers,  or  breakwaters,  as  at  Port  Said,  all  that  is  necessary 
thereto  being  money. 

The  English  Government  constructed  a breakwater  at  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  Colombo  harbor,  but  strong 
doubts  are  entertained  as  to  whether  this  piece  of  masonry 
will  answer  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  built  without 
frequent  repairs  at  an  enormous  outlay  of  money  and  labor. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


45 


On  the  other  hand,  the  natural  harbor  of  Point  de  Galle 
might  be  improved  at  a much  less  expense;  the  few  rocks 
and  coral  reefs  which  hinder  the  passage  of  large  ships 
might,  by  the  use  of  dynamite,  be  easily  removed.  The 
contest  for  supremacy  between  these  two  seaports  on  the 
west  coast  of  Ceylon,  has  resulted  in  the  victory  of  the 
ancient  capital  over  her  rival,  although  the  latter,  by 
virtue  of  her  climate,  situation,  and  environs,  is  more  de- 
serving of  the  prize.  The  climate  of  Colombo  is  excessively 
hot  and  enervating — it  is  one  of  the  hottest  in  the  world! — 
while  the  charming,  verdure-clad  hills  around  Point  de 
Galle  render  it  an  agreeable  and  healthful  place  of  residence. 

The  country  around  Colombo  is  flat,  and  chiefly  covered 
by  swamps  and  stagnant  pools.  The  fort  stands  on  a low 
headland,  of  inconsiderable  extent,  that  serves  as  a land- 
mark of  the  level  west  coast  of  the  island.  Mention  is 
made  of  this  headland  in  Ptolemy’s  ancient  geography,  on 
whose  excellent  map  of  Ceylon — “ Salike” — it  is  called 
Jupiter’s  Cape,  Jovis  Extremum . 

The  walls  of  the  fort,  which  were  strongly  fortified  by 
the  Dutch,  are  still  surmounted  by  cannon,  and  almost 
surrounded  by  water;  two  thirds  of  their  circumference  are 
washed  by  the  sea,  and  the  remaining  third  (the  south-east 
side)  by  the  waters  of  a broad  lagoon.  Several  bridges  cross 
the  latter  and  connect  the  fort  with  the  mainland.  The 
few  short  and  narrow  streets,  which  cross  each  other  at 
right  angles,  are  occupied  principally  by  the  offices  and 
warehouses  of  the  European  merchants,  a number  of  pub- 
lic and  government  buildings.  Among  the  latter  is  the 
“ Queen’s  House,”  the  handsome  palace  of  the  governor, 
which,  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  most  exuberant  tropical 
vegetation,  with  roomy  pillared  halls,  large  airy  saloons, 
and  stately  staircase,  is  the  most  imposing  of  the  public 
buildings. 

I paid  a visit  to  this  stately  palace  the  day  after  my  ar- 
rival, and  delivered  the  letters  from  the  English  Government 
to  the  governor.  The  interior  arrangements  are  very  taste- 
ful and  in  keeping  with  the  splendor  of  the  British  auto- 
crat who  rules  the  island.  Numbers  of  Indian  servants 
in  showy  livery  perform  the  domestic  service  of  the  Queen’s 
House,  while  red  and  gold  uniformed  English  soldiers  stand 
guard.  Chatham  Street,  in  which  the  office  of  the  Austrian 


46 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


Lloyd  Company  is  located,  is,  like  many  other  streets  in 
Colombo  and  Point  de  Galle,  embellished  with  rows  of  hibis- 
cus trees,  whose  large  crimson  or  yellow  flowers  cover  the 
ground  in  countless  numbers.  The  shops  in  which  I was 
most  interested  are  also  in  the  same  street,  bazaars  in  which 
you  may  purchase  photographic  views  of  scenery  and  living 
animals.  The  very  first  hour  in  Ceylon  I had  the  pleasure 
of  examining  some  views  of  the  loveliest  points  in  the  sav- 
age mountain  region  and  along  the  picturesque  coast,  as 
well  as  a sight  of  the  astonishing  wonders  of  vegetation: 
palms,  pandanus,  lianas,  tree-ferns,  banyans,  etc.  No  less 
interesting  was  it  for  me  in  that  first  hour  on  the  wonder- 
island  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  some  of  its  most  attrac- 
tive fauna,  such  as  apes,  axis,  or  spotted  deer,  parrots, 
doves,  etc. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  fort  are  the  quarters  of  the  Eng- 
lish soldiery,  large  airy  barracks  which  extend  to  the  banks 
of  the  lagoon.  Adjoining  these  is  the  military  hospital, 
and  beyond  it  the  esplanade,  called  here  the  “ Galle-face,” 
because  the  high  road  to  Point  de  Galle  begins  at  this 
point.  Afternoons,  between  the  hours  of  five  and  six,  the 
esplanade  becomes  a favorite  place  of  assembly  for  the 
wealth  and  fashion  of  Colombo. 

Here,  as  in  Hyde  Park,  London,  fair  ladies  and  gallant 
gentlemen  meet  to  recruit  from  the  enervating  heat  of 
midday,  and  to  enjoy  the  sunsets  which  are  always  embel- 
lished by  the  most  marvellous  cloud-pictures.  The  distin- 
guished young  gentlemen  of  Colombo  are  mounted  on 
horseback  (some  of  the  horses  are  sorry-looking  hacks); 
while  the  fair  ladies,  with  bouquets  of  flowers,  and  in  ele- 
gant tropical  toilettes,  recline  gracefully  in  their  comfort- 
able carriages. 

As  soon  as  the  sun  has  disappeared  everybody  hurries 
home — partly  in  dread  of  the  fever-laden  evening  air,  and 
partly  because  important  preparations  are  to  be  made  for 
the  principal  event  of  the  day — dinner,  a meal  that  is  here 
attended  with  as  much  ceremony  as  in  “Old  England.” 
My  first  visit  to  the  esplanade  was  during  the  hot  hour  of 
noon,  when  I had  an  opportunity  to  test  the  full  power  of 
the  torrid  rays  which  Helios  sheds  on  such  unsheltered 
tracts.  The  outlines  of  objects  around  me  quivered  in  the 
heated  air,  and  on  the*  red  sand  road,  between  the  grass 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


47 


bordering  it  on  either  side,  I saw  a fata  morgana — a phe- 
nomenon that  frequently  occurs  here.  The  mirage  reflected 
a sheet  of  sparkling  water  that  was  forded  by  the  wagons 
and  pedestrians  coming  toward  me.  The  thermometer 
hanging  in  the  cool  rooms  of  the  club-house  registered  24 
E.  Outside  in  the  sun  it  would  probably  have  risen  to  36° 
or  40°. 

Adjoining  the  esplanade  is  the  suburb  of  Kolupitya,  or 
Colpetty,  which  extends  towards  the  south,  between  the  flat, 
sandy  shore  and  the  road,  to  Galle.  On  both  sides  of  the 
road  are  numbers  of  elegant  villas  surrounded  by  flourish- 
ing gardens.  This  villa-quarter  extends  in  a westerly  di- 
rection to  the  so-called  “ Cinnamon  Gardens” — a locality 
that,  since  the  English  Government  was  forced  to  abandon 
its  cinnamon  monopoly,  has  lost  its  original  importance, 
and  has  become  the  private  property  of  wealthy  merchants. 
“Cinnamon  Gardens,”  with  the  handsome  and  costly  resi- 
dences scattered  among  the  trees,  is  now  considered  the 
most  aristocratic  villa-quarter  in  Colombo.  But  its  dis- 
tance from  the  seashore  and  the  refreshing  sea-breeze,  as 
well  as  its  low  situation  and  proximity  to  the  arm  of  the 
lagoon,  are  great  disadvantages.  The  sultry  heat  here  at- 
tains its  highest  altitude,  swarms  of  mosquitoes  render  the 
evenings  extremely  unpleasant,  while  innumerable  frogs  of 
all  sorts  disturb  one’s  rest  by  their  loud  nightly  concerts. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  the  adjacent  “Slave  Island,”. so 
called  because  the  Dutch — in  the  preceding  century — at 
night  penned  the  government  slaves  here. 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  all  these  disadvantages,  this  is 
the  most  beautiful  part  of  Colombo.  The  coves  denting 
the  shores  of  the  lagoon  are  encircled  by  cultivated  gardens, 
above  which  slender  cocoa-palms  incline  their  feathered 
crests;  elegant  European  villas  and  picturesque  native 
huts  adorn  the  banks,  while  a noble  background  is  formed 
by  the  distant  mountains  of  the  central  highlands,  above 
which  towers  the  proud  head. of  the  ever-conspicuous 
Adam’s  Peak. 

An  evening  canoe  ride  on  the  peaceful  bosom  of  the  la- 
goon is  one  of  Colombo’s  greatest  pleasures.  North  of  the 
above-mentioned  suburbs  stretches  the  densely-populated 
pettah , or  “Black  Town.”  It  extends  for  more  than  a 
mile  along  the  ocean  front  to  the  mouth  of  the  Kalany- 


48 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


ganga,  from  which  stream  the  city  took  its  original  name 
of  Kalan-totta,  or  Kalan-bua. 

Ibn  Batula  in  1340  called  it  Kalambu,  and  described  it 
as  the  “'largest  and  finest  city  of  Serendib” — the  ancient 
Arabian  name  of  the  island.  Kalambu,  under  the  Portu- 
guese, became  Colombo. 

Near  the  wide  delta  of  the  stately  Kalany,  not  far  from 
the  shore  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  stands  the  house  of  my 
friend  Stipperger,  with  whom  I spent  %my  first  pleasant 
weeks  in  Ceylon.  This  section  of  Colombo,  which  bears  the 
rather  singular  name  of  Mutwal,  or  Modera,  is,  to  my 
thinking,  one  of  the  most  interesting  in  the  whole  region. 
I shall  never  forget  the  strange  medley  which,  like  the 
shifting  scenes  of  a laterna  magica , passed  before  my  as- 
tonished gaze  as  I drove  from  the  fort  to  Whist  Bungalow. 
In  the  open  huts,  under  the  shadow  of  the  omnipresent 
cocoa-palm — everywhere  in  the  narrow  streets  of  th epettah, 
one  might  see  how  this  heterogeneous  population  lived, 
moved,  and  had  its  being.  Here,  as  in  all  localities  of  the 
Torrid  Zone,  the  domestic  economy  of  the  natives  is  char- 
acterized by  little  or  no  privacy,  for  as  the  heat  of  the 
tropical  sun  renders  covering  for  the  human  form  unneces- 
sary, so,  too,  the  interiors  of  the  huts  and  bazaars  are 
exposed  to  the  public  gaze — neither  windows  nor  doors 
preventing  the  outsider  from  seeing  everything  that  trans- 
pires within. 

Instead  of  doors  and  windows  there  is  a single  large 
opening  in  the  front  of  the  hut  or  bazaar,  that  at  night,  or 
during  inclement  weather  is  closed  by  a curtain  of  matting, 
or  a sliding  wooden  lattice.  The  artisan  may  be  seen  at 
work  in  his  shop,  sometimes  in  the  public  thoroughfare, 
while  the  most  intimate  scenes  of  domestic  and  family  life 
are  not  withdrawn  from  the  curious  gaze  of  the  public. 

"The  peculiar  charm  of  these  Indian  homes  lies  partly  in 
this  naive  publicity  of  domestic  affairs,  partly  in  the  primi- 
tive simplicity  of  their  requirements — the  few  household 
articles  attesting  this  fact — and  partly  in  their  harmony 
with  surrounding  nature.  The  little  gardens  which  en- 
circle every  hut  are  so  unartificial  in  their  arrangement, 
the  few  useful  plants  which  represent  the  natives’  principal 
possession  are  grouped  so  picturesquely  around  the  tiny 
dwellings,  that  everything  seems  to  have  sprung  sponta- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


49 


neously  from  the  fruitful  soil.  The  most  important  of  these 
useful  plants  is  the  “ prince  of  the  vegetable  kingdom” — 
the  palm — the  cocoa-palm  in  particular.  Every  part  of 
this  tree,  which  frequently  constitutes  the  sole  wealth  of 
the  Singhalese,  is  used  for  some  purpose;  accordingly  it  is 
seen  growing  everywhere,  in  the  cities  and  villages  as  well 
as  in  remote  districts.  It  is  the  tree  which  first  attracts 
the  eye  of  the  new-comer,  and  gives  character  to  the  land- 
# scape.  The  number  of  cocoa-palms  on  the  island  is  about 
forty  millions,  and  each  tree  yields  from  eighty  to  one  hun- 
dred nuts  (8-10  quarts  of  oil).  The  cocoa-palm  is  not 
found  in  the  northern  half  of  the  island,  nor  in  some  parts 
of  the  east  coast.  In  these  regions  its  place  is  supplied  by 
the  not  less  useful  Palmyra  palm — the  same  species  that 
covers  the  arid  regions  of  Hither  India,  and  that  grows  in 
such  profusion  near  Bombay.  Even  at  a distance  these 
two  palms  are  very  dissimilar.  The  Palmyra  belongs  to 
the  fan-palm  family,  and  has  a vigorous,  perfectly  upright 
black  stem  that  is  crowned  by  a thick  tuft  of  stiff,  fan- 
shaped  leaves.  The  cocoa  is  a feather-palm;  its  slender 
white  stem,  from  sixty  to  eighty  feet  high,  is  gracefully 
curved,  and  adorned  with  a ponderous  crown  of  immense 
pinnate  leaves.  The  foliage  of  the  elegant  Areca  palm 
( Areca  catechu ) is  similar,  but  smaller  and  less  flexible;  it 
has  a thin,  reed-like,  upright  stem,  is  always  to  be  found 
near  the  huts  of  the  Singhalese,  and  bears  the  favorite  nut 
which,  when  chewed  with  the  leaves  of  the  betel-pepper, 
stains  the  teeth  and  saliva  a red  color.  Another  palm,  the 
kitool  ( Caryota  urens ),  is  cultivated  chiefly  for  its  abun- 
dant saccharine  sap,  from  which  are  prepared  palm-sugar 
(jaggery)  and  palm-wine  (toddy).  Its  powerful  and  vigor- 
ous stem  supports  a crown  of  double  feathery  leaves  which 
resemble  those  of  the  maidenhair  fern  ( Adiantum  capillus 
veneris).  The  bread-fruit  and  mango  trees  in  the  little 
gardens,  rank  next  in  importance  to  the  palms.  Of  the 
former  there  are  two  kinds:  the  true  bread-fruit  ( Artocar - 
pus  incisa)  and  the  jack-tree  ( Artocarpus  integrifolia ), 
magnificent  specimens  of  which  are  to  be  found  every-, 
where,  and  among  them  frequently  the  singular  cotton 
tree  ( Bombax ).  Mingled  with  these  may  also  be  found  the 
beautiful  banana  or  pisang  plant,  which  certain.ly  deserves 
its  name  of  “fig  of  Paradise.”  Its  golden  fruit,  eaten  raw 


50 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


or  cooked,  is  very  nutritious  and  wholesome.  Its  huge 
pale-green  plumes  drooping  from  a stem  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  high  are  the  loveliest  decorations  of  the  Singhalese 
huts.  Scarcely  less  effective  for  ornamental  ^purposes  is 
the  barbed  foliage  of  the  Caladium — which  is  cultivated  for 
its  esculent  root — and  the  palmate  leaves  of  the  pretty 
mamhot  shrub — a member  of  the  Euphorbiaceae  family. 
The  exquisite  green  of  these  plants  contrasts  finely  with  the 
brown  clay  huts  and  the  warm  red  tint  of  the  soil  (the  re- 
sult probably  of  an  excess  of  oxide  of  iron).  In  perfect 
accord  with  these  tints  is  the  cinnamon  hue  of  the  Singha- 
lese complexion,  and  the  deep  black  skins  of  the  Tamils. 
In  Colombo,  as  well  as  on  the  south  and  west  coasts  of 
Ceylon,  the  Singhalese  constitute  the  majority  of  the  popu- 
lation. The  name  Singhalese  is  given  to  the  descendants 
of  the  Indian  Hindus  who,  according  to  the  Pali  chronicle, 
the  Mahawanso , in  the  year  543  b.c.,  under  Wijayo,  in- 
vaded Ceylon  and  subdued  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of 
the  island.  Of  the  latter  race,  the  Veddahs — a tribe  of 
outcasts  inhabiting  the  interior — are  believed  to  be  the  de- 
scendants. 

The  Singhalese  were  in  turn  driven  from  the  northern 
half  of  the  island,  as  well  as  from  the  east  coast  and  a 
large  portion  of  the  central  highlands,  by  the  Malabars,  or 
Tamils,  who  came  from  Southern  Hindustan,  from  the 
Malabar  coast.  In  stature,  physiognomy,  complexion,  lan- 
guage, religion,  and  customs,  the  Tamils  are  very  different 
from  the  Singhalese.  They  belong  to  another  branch  of 
the  Aryan  genealogical  tree.  The  Singhalese  dialect  seems 
to  have  sprung  from  the  Pali  language,  while  the  Malabars 
speak  the  entirely  dissimilar  Tamil  language.  The  religion 
of  the  former  is  Buddhism;  that  of  the  latter  Hinduism,  or 
Brahmanism.  The  Singhalese  are  devoted  principally  to 
agriculture,  the  cultivation  of  palms,  bananas,  and  other 
useful  plants;  but  are,  nevertheless,  very  shy  of  hard  work. 
This  is  usually  accomplished  by  the  Malabars,  who,  in  the 
lowlands,  work  on  the  roads,  are  builders,  carriers,  coach- 
men, etc.,  and  in  the  highlands  find  employment  on  the 
coffee  plantations.  At  the  present  time  the  Malabars 
(large  numbers  of  whom  yearly  immigrate  from  the  Indian 
peninsula)  constitute,  perhaps,  one  third  of  Ceylon’s  in- 
habitants, while  the  Singhalese  number  three  fifths  of  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


51 


whole  population,  which  is  about  two  and  a half  mil- 
lions'. 

Next  to  the  Singhalese  and  Malabars  the  Indo- Arabians 
or  inoormen,  form — according  to  number  and  influence — 
the  most  important  part  of  the  native  population  of  Cey- 
lon. They  number  perhaps  150,000,  or  one  tenth  the 
number  of  Singhalese.  They  are  descended  from  those 
i Arabs  who,  more  than  2000  years  ago,  gained  a firm  foot- 
hold in  Ceylon,  as  well  as  in  other  parts  of  Southern  and 
South-eastern  Asia,  and  who,  between  the  eighth  and 
tenth  centuries  (until  the  arrival  of  the  Portuguese)  con- 
ducted the  principal  commercial  interests  of  the  island. 
The  entire  retail  as  well  as  a great  part  of  the  wholesale 
trade  of  Ceylon  is  still  in  the  hands  of  these  active  and  en- 
terprising sons  of  the  desert,  who,  by  their  speculative 
wisdom,  craft,  and  pre-eminent  skill  for  money-making, 
here  play  a similar  role  to  that  of  the  Jews  in  Europe.  In 
many  other  respects  they  are  like  their  remote  kinsmen  in 
Europe,  who  have  no  representatives  in  Ceylon. 

The  language  spoken  and  written  by  the  moormen  is  a 
mixture  of  Arabian  and  Tamil.  They  are  chiefly  Moham- 
medans and  Sunnites.  Their  complexion  is  a brownish- 
yellow,  their  physiognomy  unmistakably  Semitic.  Hair 
and  beard  are  generally  long  and  black.  Their  powerful 
frames,  which  are  clad  in  long  white  burnous  and  wide 
white  trousers,  appear  all  the  more  stately  among  the 
Tamils  and  Singhalese,  because  of  the'  tall  yellow  turbans 
— shaped  like  a bishop’s  mitre — they  wear  on  their  head$. 

In  addition  to  these  three  predominant  races,  the  popu- 
lation of  Ceylon  is  made  up  of  aboriginal  tribes,  the  V<ed- 
dahs  and  Rodiyas  (of  whom  there  are  perhaps  2000),  Ma- 
lays and  Javanese  (who  are  principally  enlisted  as  solders), 
Parsees  and  Afghans  (mostly  money-changers  and  usurers), 
'Negroes  and  CaflTes  (soldiers  and  servants).  The  ofl spring 
of  these  different  native  races  by  intermarriage  with  Euro- 
peans, exhibit  the  most  diverse  characteristics,  and  offer 
interesting  difficulties  to  anthropological  classification. 
To  these  belong  the  “Burghers,”  the  descendants  of  the 
Portuguese  and  the  Dutch,  in  whose  veins  runs  more  or 
less  Singhalese  or  Tamil  blood.  This  class  furnishes  the 
clerks  and  accountants  in  the  offices  and  warehouses,  the 
subordinate  officers  of  the  government,  in  which  positions 


52 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


they  are  highly  esteemed.  Lastly,  the  number  of  Euro- 
peans— the  “ foreign”  rulers  of  the  island — is  only  about 
three  or  four  thousand,  and  these  are  chiefly  English  and 
Scotch.  In  the  cities  they  occupy  all  the  higher  govern- 
ment  offices,  and  own  all  the  larger  commercial  houses. 
In  the  mountain  districts  they  form  the  numerous  and  re- 
markable class  of  “ planters”  with  whose  peculiar  mode  of 
life  I became  familiar  during  my  travels  through  the  high- 
lands. 

According  to  the  census  of  1857  (twenty-five  years  ago), 
the  total  number  of  inhabitants  in  Ceylon  then  was  only 

1.760.000.  In  1871  (eleven  years  ago),  it  had  increased  to 

2.405.000,  and  at  the  present  time  there  are  over  2,500,000 
souls  on  the  island. 

If  we  assume  that  the  number  of  inhabitants  amounts  to 
the  round  sum  of  two  and  a half  millions,  then  the  con- 
stituent parts  may  be  divided  as  follows: 


Singhalese  (principally  Buddhists) 1,500,000 

Tamils  or  Malabars  (mostly  Hindus) 820^000 

Indo-Arabians  or  moormen  (chiefly  Mohammedans). . . 15(1000 

Mixed 10,000 

Malays,  Chinese,  Caff  res,  and  Negroes 8,000 

Burghers  (half-breed) 6,000 

Europeans  (chiefly  English) 4,000 

Yeddahs  (aborigines) 2,000 


Total 2,500,000 


As  the  superficial  area  of  Ceylon  is  1250  geographical 
square  miles,  scarcely  one  sixth  less  than  that  of  Ireland, 
it  might  very  easily  accommodate  six  or  eight  times  its 
present  population.  According  to  the  ancient  chronicles, 
Ceylon,  2000  years  ago,  contained  many  more  inhabi- 
tants— perhaps  more  than  twice  its  present  number!  The 
depopulated  and,  to  some  extent,  desolate  northern  half 
of  the  island  was  in  those  days  densely  populated;  and 
where  now  impassable  jungles  afford  secure  retreats  for 
apes  and  bears,  parrots  and  doves,  flourished  extensive 
fields,  rendered  productive  by  a system  of  irrigation  that 
is  worthy  all  admiration.  The  remains  of  these  irrigation 
tanks,  as  well  as  the  noble  ruins  of  the  vanished  cities, 
Anarajapoora,  Sigiri,  Pollan arua,  etc,  to  this  day  bear  wit- 
ness of  their  former  magnificence.  They  show  what  might 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


53 


again  be  accomplished  on  this  “ jewel-island/5  this  “no- 
blest pearl  in  the  diadem  of  India.” 


IY. 

Whist  Bukgalow. 

This  charming  villa  stands,  as  I mentioned  before,  at 
the  northern  extremity  of  Colombo,  or  rather  Mutwal, 
near  where  the  Kalany  River  debouches  on  the  sea.  It  is  a 
good  hour’s  distance  from  the  business  centre  of  the  city; 
and  its  isolated  situation  in  the  midst  of  natural  beauties, 
its  distance  from  the  noise  and  tumult  of  the  fort,  as  well 
as  from  the  favorite  villa-quarters,  Colpetty  and  Cinnamon 
Gardens,  made  it  peculiarly  attractive  in  my  eyes. 

Another  weighty  reason,  perhaps,  for  my  partiality 
towards  Whist  Bungalow  was  the  hospitable  treatment  I re- 
ceived from  its  several  occupants.  Besides  Herr  Stipperger, 
there  were  three  other  very  agreeable  countrymen  of  mine. 

The  “few  days”  I at  first  proposed  to  remain  with  Herr 
Stipperger  soon  extended  to  a “few  weeks,”  and  as  I 
made  another  visit  of  several  days  to  the  bungalow  on  my 
return  from  the  south,  one  month  of  the  four  passed  on 
the  island  was  pleasantly  spent  in  this  delightful  spot. 

Whist  Bungalow  owes  its  peculiar  name  to  the  fact  that 
the  first  proprietor  of  the  secluded  villa,  an  old  English 
officer,  at  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  was  wont, 
on  Sundays,  to  invite  his  comrades  to  a whist-party.  As 
the  rigid  observances  of  the  English  Church  would  have 
condemned  these  merry  card-parties  as  a profanation  of 
the  Sabbath  they  were  kept  a profound  secret;  and  the 
more  the  assembled  warriors  rejoiced  at  being  able  thus  to 
escape  the  tedium  of  the  English  Sunday  and  an  orthodox 
society,  the  more  boisterous  became  the  whist-parties — and 
their  consequent  drinking-bouts — in  the  solitary  bunga- 
low. 

At  that  time  Whist  Bungalow  was  a simple  little  cottage 
hidden  in  the  dense  shrubbery  of  the  garden.  Its  present 
stately  proportions  were  assumed  under  the  proprietorship 
of  a Mr.  Morgan,  an  advocate,  who  was  a gay  man  of  the 
world,  and  who  expended  a large  part  of  his  fortune  in  en- 


54 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


larging  and  embellishing  the  villa — a little  Miramare  of 
Ceylon — and  making  it  worthy  of  its  romantically  beauti- 
ful situation.  The  choicest  ornamental  trees  and  shrubs 
were  planted  in  the  garden.  A stately  colonnade,  with 
airy  veranda,  encircled  the  enlarged  mansion,  while  its 
lofty  saloons  were  furnished  with  princely  magnificence. 
For  many  a year  Whist  Bungalow  was  the  scene  of  gay 
parties  and  feasts  which  were  far  more  luxurious  and  costly, 
if  not  so  boisterous  and  merry,  than  the  less  ostentatious 
revels  of  the  whist-players.  It  seems,  however,  that  Mr. 
Morgan’s  large  income  was  not  sufficient  for  the  colossal 
expenditures  of  his  Lucullan  mode  of  life;  he  died  unex- 
pectedly, when  it  was  found  that  a considerable  deficit  ex- 
isted in  his  cash  account.  The  numerous  creditors  seized 
Whist  Bungalow,  and  were  glad  at  last  to  sell  it  at  public 
auction  in  order  to  realize  at  least  a portion  of  the  money 
they  had  loaned  Mr.  Morgan. 

And  now  came  a turning-point  in  the  history  of  the 
princely  mansion,  whose  new  proprietor  was  not  long  al- 
lowed to  rejoice  in  his  bargain.  Rumor,  who  had  already 
whispered  many  strange  tales  concerning  the  romantic 
bungalow,  now  asserted  audibly  that  it  was  “haunted  ” by 
the  spirit  of  the  suddenly  deceased  Mr.  Morgan.  Every 
night — moonlight  or  not — the  ghost  was  said  to  appear, 
attended  by  hideous  noises;  white  forms  meandered  through 
the  saloons;  winged  demons  fluttered  in  the  pillared  halls; 
and  equally  unearthly  creatures  with  flaming  eyes  peram- 
bulated the  roof.  The  director-general  of  this  ghostly 
crew  was,  of  course,  the  spirit  of  Mr.  Morgan,  of  whom  it 
was  now  said  that  his  suddenly  evaporated  wealth  had  not 
been  obtained  by  strictly  honorable  means;  that  he,  like 
some  others  of  his  calling,  had  employed  his  extensive 
legal  knowledge  less  in  the  interest  of  his  clients  than  to 
find  means  for  transferring  the  contents  of  their  treasure- 
chests  into  his  own.  He  was  also  said  to  have  embezzled 
large  sums;  to  have  defrauded  widows  and  orphans,  etc. 
etc.;  for  all  of  which  the  divagations  of  his  spirit  among 
the  scenes  of  his  former  Bacchanalia  was  the  punish- 
ment. _ I 

So  many  natives  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  Mutwal 
had  heard  the  ghostly  clatter — some  had  even  seen  the  ter- 
rible demons — that  the  new  proprietor  of  Whist  Bungalow 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


55 


would  not  live  in  it  himself,  nor  could  he  find  a tenant 
for  it. 

Thus  Whist  Bungalow  stood  deserted  and  empty  when 
my  friend  Stipperger  heard  of  it,  and,  on  seeing  the  charm- 
ing place,  decided  to  rent  it.  But  this  had  also  its  diffi- 
culties. No  servant  willing  to  live  in  the  haunted  house 
was  to  be  found.  This  was  accomplished  only  after  sub- 
stantial proofs  of  the  ghost’s  zoological  origin  had  been 
established.  The  first  night  Herr  Stipperger  spent  in  his 
new  home  he  armed  himself  to  the  teeth,  and  awaited  the 
appearance  of  the  spirits,  who  proved  to  be,  as  he  had  con- 
jectured, corporeal  mammals  of  flesh  and  blood  with  whom 
the  defunct  Mr.  Morgan  was  not  in  the  least  analogous. 
The  mysterious  noises,  when  silenced  by  a load  of  shot, 
proved  to  be  a congress  of  wild-cats;  the  ghosts  of  the 
saloons  and  pillared  halls  manifested  themselves  as  huge 
bandicoot  rats  and  flying  foxes  ( P ter ojpus ).  The  evidence 
furnished  by  this  night’s  chase  was  so  overwhelming  that 
the  fears  of  the  most  timid  servant  were  vanquished,  and 
my  friend  took  peaceable  possession  of  the  isolated  Whist 
Bungalow.  Order  was  at  once  restored  to  the  large  garden 
which  had  become  a wilderness;  the  dismantled  rooms 
were  furnished  anew,  and  when  several  German  country- 
men saw  the  restored  villa  they  were  so  charmed  with  its 
appearance  they  begged  the  new  tenant  to  sublet  several  of 
its  numerous  apartments  to  them.  This  was  done;  -and 
when  I arrived  at  Whist  Bungalow  I found  there  the  quar- 
tette, with  whom  I passed  many  a pleasant  evening  in  con- 
versation. There  was  never  any  lack  of  diverse  individual 
opinion,  which,  with  us  Germans,  is  quite  indispensable — 
the  famous  “German  Unity”  to  the  contrary  notwith- 
standing. Herr  Both,  from  Hanau  (to  whom  I am  in- 
debted for  a neat  collection  of  reptiles),  represented  the 
Frankfort  district  of  Germany  in  Ceylon;  Herr  Suhren, 
from  East  Friesland  (who  presented  me  with  a collection 
of  beautiful  butterflies),  the  extreme  north-west;  and  Herr 
Herath,  from  Bayreuth  (who  delighted  me  with  gifts  of 
birds  of  paradise,  parrots,  and  honey-birds),  the  Bavarian 
region  of  the  Fatherland. 

The  peculiar  charm  of  Whist  Bungalow  over  all  other 
Colombo  residences,  lies  partly  in  its  delightful  situation, 
and  partly  in  its  magnificent  surroundings.  While  the 


56 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


out-buildings — servants’  quarters,  stables,  etc.— lie  hidden 
behind  the  garden,  the  main  structure  stands  on  the  bank 
of  a lovely  stretch  of  water  that  extends  along  the  west 
side  of  the  garden.  The  airy  veranda  commands  a view  of 
the  ocean,  of  the  mouth  of  the  Kalany-ganga,  and  of  a lovely 
little  wooded  island  in  its  delta.  Farther  towards  the  north 
the  eye  follows  a belt  of  cocoa-forest  that  stretches  alono- 
the  coast  to  Negombo.  On  the  south,  contiguous  to  the 
garden  of  Whist  Bungalow,  lies  a picturesque  tract  of  land 
over  which,  with  a charming  disregard  for  order,  are  scat- 
tered fishing-huts  under  slender  cocoa-palms,  between  them 
a diminutive  Buddha  temple,  and  beyond  them  the  rocks 
of  the  shore,  ornamented  with  grotesque  pandanus  shrubs, 
etc.  From  this  point  a narrow  sandy  tongue  of  land  juts 
in  a northerly  direction  towards  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
and,  stretching  in  front  of  our  garden,  forms  a peaceful 
little  inland  sea,  . The  tongue  of  land  which  separates  this 
lake  from  the  adjacent  ocean  is  densely  overgrown  with  the 
lovely  crimson-flowered  goat’s-foot  (Ipomea  pes  capri),  and 
the  singular  water-pink  ( Spinifex  squarrosus).  It  also 
serves  as  terra  firma  for  several  fishing-huts,  and  all  day 
long  a succession  of  animated  and  interesting  pictures  may 
be  seen  along  its  strand.  In  the  early  morning,  before  the 
sun  has  risen,  the  fishermen  and  their  families  here  take 
their  morning  bath,  then  the  horses  and  oxen  take  theirs. 
Industrious  washers  are  busy  from  morning  till  night  beat- 
ing the  clothes  on  smooth  stones,  or  spreading  them  on 
the  bank  to  dry.  Numerous  fishing  craft  sail  up  and  down, 
and  evenings,  when  they  are  drawn  on  the  beach,  and 
their  large  square  sails  stretched  out  to  dry,  the  tongue  of 
land,  with  the  long  row  of  motionless  boats,  affords  an 
exceedingly  picturesque  sight— especially  if  the  sails  are 
swelled  by  the  evening  breeze,  and  the  setting  sun,  just 
dipping  into  the  ocean,  floods  the  entire  Indian  coast  with 
radiant  gold,  orange,  and  purple. 

According  to  information  received  from  my  friends,  this 
sandy  tongue  has  frequently  changed  in  form.  It  is,  in 
fact,  one  of  those  movable  bars  which  are  found  fronting 
the  outlets  of  all  the  larger  rivers  of  Ceylon.  The  latter, 
m their  wild  course  from  the  mountains,  bring  with  them 
masses  of  gravel  and  sand,  to  which,  in  their  more  leisurely 
progress  through  the  low  coast-land,  the  abundant  rains 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


57 


add  large  quantities  of  earth  and  mud.  All  this  deposited 
at  the  mouths  of  the  rivers  in  a short  time  forms  consid- 
erable bars.  The  shape,  size,  and  position  of  these  bars  is 
constantly  changing,  according  to  the  direction  taken  by 
the  outlets  of  the  river  through  its  level  delta.  In  former 
times  the  principal  outlet  of  the  Kalany-ganga  was  a mile 
farther  to  the  south,  through  the  Cinnamon  Gardens.^- 
The  lagoons  in  that  suburb,  which  are  still  connected  with* 
the  Kalany  by  narrow  canals,  are  the  remnants  of  the 
former  outlet;  the  largest  portion  of  Colombo  then  occu- 
pied the  delta  of  the  river.  In  a like  manner  the  pic- 
turesque bar  opposite  Whist  Bungalow  was  at  one  time 
connected  with  the  mainland  at  its  northern  extremity,  at 
another  time  by  its  southern  point,  while  the  wooded  islet 
in  the  principal  outlet  of  the  river  was  at  one  time  a pen- 
insula, at  another  an  isolated  island.  The  shore  of  this 
island,  as  well  as  the  banks  of  the  river  adjoining  the  gar- 
den of  Whist  Bungalow,  is  densely  overgrown  with  re- 
markable mangrove  trees,  whose  peculiar  land-producing 
activity  I witnessed  the  first  time  I visited  their  neighbor- 
hood. The  trees,  which  are  comprised  under  the  name  of 
mangrove,  or  mangle-tree,  belong  to  very  various  genera 
and  families  ( Rhizophora , Sonneratia , Lomnitzera , Avicen- 
nia,  etc.),  but  in  their  peculiar  form  of  growth  and  conse- 
quent physiognomy  they  all  essentially  agree — a compact, 
usually  circular,  crown  of  foliage  resting  on  a thick  stem 
that  rises  from  a mass  of  bare,  interlaced  roots.  These 
dome-shaped  root-works  frequently  rise  above  the  surface 
of  the  water  six  or  eight  feet;  the  mud  and  sand  from  the 
surcharged  rivers  accumulate  among  them,  and  in  this 
manner  a clump  of  mangroves  can  materially  favor  an  in- 
crease in  the  land.  Many  organic  substances — dead  bodies, 
fragments  of  animals  and  plants — also  lodge  in  the  inter- 
laced roots,  converting  in  many  tropical  localities,  the 
mangrove-forest  into  a source  of  dangerous  fevers.  This, } 
however,  is  not  the  case  with  the  mangrove-forests  of 
Ceylon,  where  the  watered  regions  (for  instance,  the  stag- 
nant lagoons  of  Colombo)  are  by  no  means  unhealthy. 
This,  perhaps,  may  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  the 
copious  and  almost  continuous  rains  on  the  island  fre- 
quently renew  the  waters  in  the  stagnant  basins,  and 
remove  the  decomposing  substances  before  they  effect  any 


58 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


harm.  Instead  of  mangroves  there  are  a number  of  beau- 
tiful shrubs  growing  along  the  bank  of  our  garden  belong- 
ing to  the  Asclepiadece  family  ( Cerbera , Taber  ncemontana, 
Plumiera),  all  of  them  distinguished  by  clusters  of  large, 
white,  deliciously-fragrant  blossoms,  like  oleanders,  hang- 
ing from  the  ends  of  the  candelabra-like  stem  which  rises 
t from  the  centre  of  a shining  tuft  of  dark-green  leathery 
leaves.  Most  of  these  asclepia  trees  yield  a poisonous  milky 
sap.  They  belong  to  the  most  numerous  and  most  char- 
acteristic decorations  of  the  roadsides  and  swampy  meadows 
of  the  richly- watered  lowlands  in  the  south-western  part  of 
the  island.  Between  them,  towering  here  and  there  above 
the  bank,  are  huge  but  dainty  tufts  of  the  giant-grasses 
( B ambus  a ). 

The  garden  proper  of  Whist  Bungalow  has,  through  the 
tasteful  care  of  its  proprietor,  been  converted  into  a charm- 
ing bit  of  paradise  in  which  may  be  found  representatives 
of  almost  every  important  character-plant  on  the  island; 
thus  forming  not  only  an  odorous  and  flourishing  pleasure 
garden,  but  an  instructive  botanic  garden  on  a small  scale. 
The  first  time  I visited  it  and  wandered,  intoxicated  with 
delight,  among  the  palms  and  figs,  bananas  and  acacias,  I 
obtained  an  excellent  idea  of  the  plants  comprised  in  the 
'flora  of  the  lowlands.  Naturally  the  first  to  deserve  men- 
tion is  the  noble  family  of  palms:  cocoa  and  talipot,  areca 
and  borassus,  caryota  and  Palmyra;  then  the  splendid 
light  green  bananas  with  their  delicate,  wind-torn  plumes 
and  precious  golden  fruit.  Besides  the  different  varieties 
of  the  common  banana  ( Musa  sapientum),  our  garden  con* 
tains  a tall,  magnificent  example  of  the  curious  fan-shaped 
“ traveler’s-tree”  of  Madagascar  ( Urania  speciosa).  To 
the  left  of  it  is  a fine  specimen  of  the  sacred  fig  tree  ( Ficus 
bengalensis ),  that,  with  its  air-roots  depending  from  the 
branches,  some  of  them  rooted  in  the  ground,  forms  a very 
curious  object;  several  graceful  Gothic  arches  are  formed 
by  these  root-trunks  which  act  as  supporting  pillars  for 
the  main  branches.  Other  trees,  of  various  groups  (ter- 
minalia,  laurels,  myrtles,  iron-wood,  bread-fruit,  etc.),  are 
overgrown  and  festooned  by  those  lianas  which  play  so  im- 
portant a part  in  the  flora  of  Ceylon.  These  belong  to 
various  plant-families,  for,  in  the  midst  of  this  unsur- 
passed plenitude  of  existence,  under  the  matchless  influ- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


59 


ence  of  perpetual  hea-t  and  moisture,  a multitude  of  differ- 
ent plants,  growing  in  the  dense  thickets  of  this  verdant 
wonder-island,  climb  upward  by  the  aid  of  other  plants  to 
the  light  and  air. 

Other  adornments  in  our  charming  garden  are  large- 
leaved  callas,  or  Aroidecv , and  graceful  ferns — two  plant- 
groups  that  play  an  important  role  in  the  lower  flora 
of  the  island.  Interspersed  among  the  latter  are  many 
more  ornamental  foliage  and  flowering  plants,  some  of 
which  are  indigenous  to  the  island,  and  some  from  other 
regions  of  the  torrid  zone — namely.  South  America — but 
perfectly  at  home  here.  Above  them  tower  stately  hibiscus 
trees  with  large  crimson  or  yellow  flowers;  flame-acacias 
( Caesalpinia ) with  huge,  gorgeous,  flame-colored  nosegays; 
mighty  tamarinds  with  aromatic  blossoms,  and,  hanging 
in  festoons  from  the  branches,  graceful  thunbergias  with 
huge  violet  bells;  aristolochias  with  large  yellow  and  brown 
trumpet-shaped  blossoms.  Of  extraordinary  size  and  gaudy 
coloring  are  many  of  the  flowers  of  the  madder  plants 
( Rnbiacece ),  lilies,  orchids,  etc. 

But  I shall  not  further  impose  on  the  reader  meagre 
descriptions  and  uninteresting  botanical  terms  in  the  vain 
hope  that  they  will  give  him  an  adequate  conception  of  the 
enchanting  beauty  unfolded  by  the  Indian  flora  in  Ceylon, 
and  first  seen  by  me  in  the  garden  of  Whist  Bungalow  and 
on  the  banks  of  the  Kalany  Kiver. 

The  first  morning  I spent  in  this  paradise  I wandered 
for  hours  intoxigated  with  delight  from  plant  to  plant, 
from  tree-group  to  tree-group,  unable  to  decide  which  of 
the  countless  wonders  was  most  worthy  of  my  attention. 
How  paltry  now  seemed  everything  I had  admired  at 
Bombay! 

The  animal  world  which  animates  this  Ceylon  Paradise 
cannot  compare  in  abundance  or  size  with  the  extraordi- 
nary splendor  and  exuberance  of  the  plant  world. 

In  this  respect  the  island,  from  what  I have  heard  and 
read,  cannot  compare  with  the  mainland  of  India,  or  the 
Sunda  Islands. 

It  is  also  inferior  to  tropical  Africa  and  Brazil,  and  I 
must  confess  that  my  first  disappointment  increased  rather 
than  diminished  wdien  I became  familiar  with  the  fauna  of 
the  more  unfrequented  portions  of  the  island.  I had  hoped 


60 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


to  find  the  trees  and  bnshes  covered  with  apes  and  parrots; 
the  flowers  with  butterflies  and  beetles  of  rare  forms  and 
gorgeous  hues.  But  neither  the  quantity  nor  quality  of 
what  I found  came  up  with  my  extravagant  expectations, 
and  I had  at  length  only  the  consolation  of  knowing  that 
all  the  zoologists  that  had  visited  Ceylon  before  me  must 
have  experienced  a similar  disenchantment.  However,  ; 
careful  search  will  reveal,  even  to  the  critical  zoologist,  I 
much  that  is  new  and  interesting;  the  fauna  of  Ceylon  is 
after  all  no  less  original  and  curious,  if  not  so  abundant 
and  beautiful,  as  its  flora. 

The  vertebrates  which  from  the  very  first  most  attracted 
me  in  the  garden  of  Whist  Bungalow  and  the  neighbor- 
hood around  Colombo,  were  numerous  reptiles  of  brilliant 
hues  and  peculiar  form,  namely,  snakes  and  lizards;  pretty 
little  tree-frogs  ( Ixalus ) whose  strange  bell-like  notes  are 
heard  everywhere  in  the  evening. 

Of  the  birds  in  the  garden  the  most  numerous  are  star- ! 
lings  and  crows,  water-wagtails,  bee-eaters,  and  the  dainty 
little  creature  which  here  takes  the  place  of  the  humming- 
bird: the  honey-bird  ( Nectcirinia );  kingfishers,  and  herons 
are  found  along  the  banks  of  the  rivers. 

Of  the  mammals  in  the  garden  by  far  the  most  numerous 
are  cunning  little  squirrels  ( Sciurus  tristriatus ) that  scam- 
per everywhere  among  the  trees  and  bushes;  they  are  very 
tame  and  trustful — are  a brown-gray  with  three  white 
streaks  down  their  backs. 

Among  the  insects,  ants  (from  the  most  minute  in  size 
to  the  largest  kinds)  are  the  most  preponderant;  then 
termites  or  so-called  “ white  ants.”  Other  Hymenoptera 
(wasps  and  bees)  as  well  as  the  Diptera  are  largely  repre- 
sented. On  the  other  hand,  those  orders  which  include 
the  largest  and  most  beautiful  forms  — butterflies  and 
beetles — are  not  as  abundant  as  one  would  naturally  expect 
from  the  exuberance  of  the  vegetation.  However,  the 
Orthoptera  (grasshoppers,  crickets,  etc.)  are  both  curious 
and  multiform. 

Very  interesting  and  remarkable  articulates  are  offered 
by  the  spider  class,  or  Arachnida , from  the  smallest  mites 
and  ticks  to  the  gigantic  bird-catchers  and  scorpions. 
The  closely-allied  milleped,  or  myriapod  family  is  also 
largely  represented;  some  of  its  members  grow  to  an  im- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


61 


mense  length — a foot  long!  and  are  greatly  feared  on  ac- 
count of  their  poisonous  sting.  I saw  one  of  these  colossal 
fellows  the  first  morning  in  the  garden  at  Whist  Bungalow, 
but  I had  no  time  then  to  devote  to  animal-wonders, — my 
attention  was  too  closely  engaged  with  the  beauty  of  the 
vegetable  world.  How  gladly  would  I have  devoted  months 
and  years  to  the  study  of  this  magnificent  flora  for  which 
there  were  but  a few  short  days  and  weeks  at  my  disposal! 

In  addition  to  the  attractions  around  me,  the  Indian  sun 
shone  so  brightly  in  a deep  blue,  cloudless  sky  that  my 
poor  northern  eyes  were  almost  dazzled  by  the  radiant  light 
and  brilliant  hues,  and  the  tropical  heat  would  have  been 
intolerable  had  there  not  been  a cool  gentle  breeze  from 
the  sea.  It  was  the  22d  of  November,  the  birthday  of  my 
dear  father,  who  died  ten  years  ago  at  the  age  of  ninety. 
To-day  he  would  have  celebrated  the  one  hundredth  anni- 
versary of  his  birth,  and  as  my  intense  love  for  nature  is 
an  inheritance  from  him,  a strangely  solemn  feeling  came 
over  me  when  I remembered  what  day  it  was,  and  I ac- 
cepted the  rare  enjoyment  of  these  precious  hours  as  a fit- 
ting gift  for  this  festal  day! 

Natural  enjoyments  like  these  have  an  inestimable  value 
above  1a.ll  artistic  and  other  pleasures  in  that  they  never 
pall,  and  that  the  nature  susceptible  to  their  influence  ever 
returns  to  them . with  renewed  sympathy  and  increased 
understanding.  This  is  why  the  morning  rambles  in  the 
paradisal  garden  of  Whist  Bungalow  and  the  surrounding 
country — now  along  the  banks  of  the  river,  now  along  the 
seashore — were  repeated  on  every  successive  morning  good 
fortune  allowed  me  to  remain  in  Colombo,  and  why  I took 
leave  of  Ceylon,  on  the  10th  of  March,  1882,  with  a feeling 
of  “ Paradise  Lost”!  My  botanical  information  was  ma- 
terially increased  by  several  visits  I paid  to  different  English 
residents  of  Colombo  and  its  suburbs.  One  visit  in  particu- 
lar I remember  with  much  pleasure.  It  was  to  the  “ Villa 
of  the  Temple-trees;”  thus  the  plumiera  trees  are  called 
because  their  large,  deliciously  fragrant  flowers,  together 
with  the  blossoms  of  the  jasmine  and  the  oleander,  are 
scattered  as  offerings  in  front  of  the  image  of  Buddha  in 
the  Buddhist  temples.  Two  magnificent  temple-trees,  to- 
gether with  a gigantic  casuarina,  stood  on  the  broad  lawn 
which  separated  the  stately  villa  from  the  Galle  road.  The 


62 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


proprietor  of  this  handsome  residence,  Mr.  Staniforth 
Green,  had  cordially  invited  me  to  spend  several  days  with 
him.  I found  him  a most  agreeable  old  gentleman,  and  a 
most  enthusiastic  admirer  of  nature.  Every  hour  he  can 
spare  from  his  extensive  coffee-mills  is  devoted  to  the  culti- 
vation of  a beautiful  garden,  and  in  collecting  and  study- 
ing the  habits  of  insects  and  plants.  With  the  sincere  and 
passionate  care  which  characterized  the  naturalist  of  the 
preceding  century,  and  which  is  daily  becoming  more  rare 
among  the  “assiduous”  young  “scientists”  of  the  present 
day,  Mr.  Green  has  devoted  years  to  studying  the  habits 
and  development  of  the  most  minute  insects,  and  has  made 
a number  of  valuable  discoveries,  some  of  which  have  been 
published  in  the  English  newspapers. 

He  has  a large  number  of  exceedingly  interesting  curiosi- 
ties, some  of  which  he  very  kindly  presented  to  me.  His 
nephew,  who  is  associated  with  him  in  business,  is  also 
devoted  to  this  favorite  study,  and  has  a handsome  collec- 
tion of  insects.  From  him  also  I received  a number  of 
gifts,  among  them  several  examples  of  the  gigantic  bird- 
catching  spider  ( Mygole ),  whose  chase  after  little  birds 
(Nedarinia)  and  lizards  ( Platydadylus ) Mr.  Green  has  fre- 
quently observed. 

Mr.  Green’s  garden,  which  contains  several  ancient 
“ flame  acacias”  ( Caesalpinia),  as  well  as  some  splendid 
yuccas  and  climbing  palms  ( Calamus ),  lies  on  the  banks  of 
a charming  little  cove  of  the  lagoon  which  extends  between 
Colpetty,  Slave  Island,  and  the  fort.  One  lovely  evening 
we  rowed  across  the  cove,  whose  surface  was  spangled  with 
exquisite  white  and  red  water-lilies,  to  the  villa  of  Mr. 
William  Ferguson.  This  amiable  old  gentleman  (for  many 
years  superintendent  of  the  construction  of  roads)  also 
devotes  his  leisure  hours  to  zoological  and  botanical  re- 
searches, and  has  enriched  those  domains  with  a number 
of  valuable  contributions.  To  him  also  I am  indebted  for 
much  interesting  information.  Mr.  William  Ferguson  is 
not  to  be  confounded  with  his  totally  dissimilar  brother, 
the  so-called  “ Ceylon  Commissioner,”  the  editor  and  pub- 
lisher of  the  most  influential  newspaper  on  the  island,  the 
Ceylon  Observer.  This  sheet  is  edited  in  that  spirit  of 
stern  orthodoxy  and  intolerant  bigotry  which  unfortu- 
nately distinguishes  so  many  of  the  pretended  “liberal” 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


63 


English  newspapers.  At  the  time  of  my  visit  in  Colombo 
the  columns  of  the  Observer  were  filled  with  a vigorous  on- 
slaught on  a most  meritorious  and  well-informed  jurist, 
Mr.  Berwick,-  a district  judge,  because  he  in  one  of  his 
arguments  had  acknowledged  and  cleverly  applied  the 
Darwinian  tenets  of  modern  natural  philosophy.  The 
specific  piety,  however,  of  the  “ Ceylon  Commissioner” 
did  not  hinder  him  from  selling  a faulty  and  unreliable 
map  of  the  coffee  district  for  eighteen  rupees! 

I accompanied  Mr.  Green  to  the  Colombo  Museum,  an 
imposing  two-storied  building  which  stands  in  the  Cinna- 
mon Gardens,  and  contains  collections  of  the  literary,  his- 
torical, and  natural  curiosities  of  the  island.  The  lower 
story  is  occupied  on  one  side  by  a valuable  library,  on  the 
other  are  relics  of  antiquity:  ancient  inscriptions,  sculp- 
tures, coins,  ethnographic  collections,  etc.  In  the  upper 
story  is  a rich  collection  of  natural  curiosities,  principally 
dried  and  stuffed  animals,  exclusively  Ceylonese.  The  in- 
sect family  is  especially  rich  in  its  representation — particu- 
larly those  orders  which  Dr.  Haly,  the  director  of  the 
museum,  has  made  a special  study.  There  is  also  a fine  dis- 
play of  birds  and  reptiles,  but  in  most  divisions  of  the 
lower  animal  kingdom  much  still  remains  to  be  supplied- 
However,  the  exhibition  of  fauna  peculiar  to  the  island  is 
very  creditable,  but  the  zoologist  direct  from  Europe  will 
find  many  of  the  specimens  in  a rather  unsatisfactory  con- 
dition.. Many  of  the  stuffed  animals  are  badly  prepared, 
mouldy,  decayed,  etc.  But  criticism  of  these  faults  will 
come  only  from  the  novice  who  is  unfamiliar  with  the  ex- 
traordinary difficulties  which  attend  the  preservation  of 
such  collections  in  the  moist,  hot-house  climate  of  Ceylon. 
Bitter  experience  later  convinced  me  of  this  fact.  If  in  a 
perpetual  heat  of  20-25°  R.,  and  a moist  atmosj)here  that 
surpasses  the  European  conception  of  dampness,  iron  and 
steel  rust  in  spite  of  every  precaution;  and  leather  and 
paper  mould  in  a very  short  time,  it  is  natural  to  suppose 
that  the  chitinous  frames  of  insects  as  well  as  the  skins  of 
animals  will  sooner  or  later  succumb  to  decay.  Various 
insects  also  are  as  destructive  as  the  heat  and  moisture: 
black  and  red  ants  (some  of  them  two  and  three  times  as 
large  as  those  at  home,  and  some  almost  microscopic  in 
size);  white  ants  or  termites  (the  worst  of  all  insect 


64 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON \ 


enemies);  giant  cockroaches  (Blatter),  paper-lice  ( Psocus ), 
wood-lice,  and  other  vermin  vie  with  each  other  in  destroy- 
ing a collection.  Indeed  it  is  almost  impossible  to  protect 
anything  destructible  from  the  ceaseless  attacks  of  these 
diminutive  foes;  in  spite  of  every  precaution  I lost  a large 
part  of  the  collections  I made  while  in  Ceylon. 

The  first  days  of  astonishment  and  admiration  past, 
I began  to  unpack  the  thousand  and  one  things  in 
my  trunks  and  boxes — and  in  what  a condition  I found 
most  of  them!  Every  particle  of  iron  and  steel  about  the 
scientific  instruments  was  covered  with  rust;  none  of  the 
screws  would  budge;  every  book,  every  bit  of  paper,  as 
well  as  every  article  of  leather,  was  damp  and  covered  with 
mould.  But  what  grieved  me  most  was  the  condition  in 
which  I found  my  precious  “dress-coat” — a garment  that 
plays  as  important  a role  in  English  society  here  as  at 
home  in  Europe.  When  I took  it  from  the  trunk  I 
scarcely  recognized  it;  it  had  completely  changed  color, 
and  was,  like  all  the  rest  of  my  wearing  apparel,  orna- 
mented with  landscapes  executed  in  green  and  white 
mould!  These  vanished  only  after  the  garments  had  been 
aired  and  sunned  for  several  days.  Such  a condition  of 
affairs  renders  it  absolutely  necessary  for  every  European 
household  in  Ceylon  to  employ  a “clothes-boy,”  whose 
sole  duty  it  is  to  prevent,  by  constant  airing  and  sunning, 
the  mould  from  accumulating  on  wearing  apparel,  house- 
hold linen,  paper,  etc.  The  brand  new  photographic 
camera  obscura,  which  I had  purchased  from  a reliable 
house  in  Berlin,  and  which  had  been  “warranted”  made 
of  “perfectly  dry  wood,”  was  found  on  unpacking  to  be 
utterly  useless  ,r  the  wood  was  warped  and  twisted  out  of  all 
shape,  as  were  even  the  lids  of  my  wooden  boxes.  The 
gummed  envelops  of  which  I had  brought  a supply  were 
securely  sealed;  a box  of  pulverized  gum-arabic  had  be- 
come a mass  of  solid  cement,  while  a second  box  that  I had 
filled  with  medicinal  lozenges  before  leaving  home  con- 
tained a thick  syrup  strongly  flavored  with  peppermint. 
Still  more  astonishing  was  the  opening  of  a box  of  effer- 
vescent powders;  the  tartaric  acid  had  vanished  from  the 
blue  papers,  while  the  white  wrappers  contained  only  some 
carbonate  of  soda  instead  of  the  original  carbonic  acid! 
This  is  what  happened  to  me  in  Ceylon  in  the  “ dry  sea- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


65 


son,”  from  November  to  April;  what  must  it  be  in  the 
season  called  “wet”  when,  from  May  until  October,  the 
rain-teeming  south-west  monsoon  prevails?  My  friends  as- 
sured me  that  no  one  pretended  to  keep  anything  dry  in  the 
rainy  season,  and  that  the  water  ran  down  the  walls. 

That  such  a forcing-house  temperature  should  uncom- 
fortably affect  the  human  organism  accustomed  to  the 
totally  different  climate  of  Central  Europe  is  very  natural, 
also  that  the  struggle  with  this  inimical  climate  is  the  daily 
subject  of  conversation.  I must  confess  that  I was  at  a 
loss  how  to  adapt  myself  to  it.  The  first  weeks  in  Colombo 
I found  the  annoyances  and  inconveniences  almost  unen- 
durable, especially  during  the  hot  nights,  when  the  tem- 
perature rarely  fell  below  20°  R.,  while  during  the  day  it 
frequently  rose  in  the  shade  to  24°  and  28°.  However  the 
second  week  was  not  so  disagreeable  as  the  first,  and  later, 
even  on  the  south  coast  near  the  fifth  degree  of  south  latitude, 
I never  suffered  as  much  as  during  the  first  sleepless  nights 
and  enervating  days  in  Colombo.  Under  these  conditions 
the  daily  bath  becomes  an  indispensable  luxury.  I generally 
refreshed  myself  with  three,  one  directly  after  rising  in  the 
morning  about  six  o’clock,  a second  before  the  so-called 
“breakfast”  at  midday,  and  a third  before  dinner,  about 
seven  o’clock.  I likewise  adopted  the  peculiar  dress  worn 
by  the  Europeans  in  the  tropics:  garments  made  of  the 
lightest  cotton  material,  and  a Calcutta  or  sola  hat — an 
extremely  light  and  comfortable  covering  for  the  head, 
made  of  the  pith  of  the  sola  plant. 

After  adopting  this  costume,  and  strictly  observing  other 
precautionary  regulations,  which  in  the  tropics  are  ab- 
solutely necessary  for  the  preservation  of  health,  I got  on 
very  comfortably,  and  was  perfectly  well  during  the  entire 
time  of  my  sojourn  on  the  island,  although — and  perhaps 
too  because  I did  so — I exercised  every  day,  even  during 
the  hot  hours  of  noon.  Of  course  I lived  more  simply  and 
abstemiously  than  is  the  custom  here;  I did  not  eat  half 
the  quantity  of  food,  or  drink  half  the  amount  the  English 
resident  considers  necessary  for  his  comfort.  If  these  peo- 
ple, after  a few  years’  sojourn  in  the  tropics,  complain  of 
diseases  of  the  liver  and  stomach,  then  the  blame,  accord- 
ing to  my  thinking,  may  be  laid  more  to  the  want  of  proper 
exercise  and  the  inordinate  consumption  of  dainties  than 


66 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


to  the  hot  climate.  Frequently  they  eat  and  drink  three 
times  as  much,  and  of  the  richest  food  and  hottest  spiritu- 
ous liquors,  as  is  necessary  for  health.  In  this  particular 
the  habits  of  the  English  resident  form  a most  decided  con- 
trast to  those  of  the  native,  which  are  extremely  simple; 
the  food  of  the  latter  is  chiefly  rice  and  curry  and  several 
fruits,  while  his  beverage  is  simply  water,  or  at  most  palm 
wine. 

In  Ceylon,  as  in  most  parts  of  British  India,  the 
Europeans  take  their  meals  as  follows:  Mornings,  directly 
after  they  arise,  tea  and  biscuits,  bread,  eggs,  marmalade, 
and  fruits.  At  ten  o’clock  a breakfast  that  with  us  would 
be  a complete  dinner.  The  third  meal  “ tiffin”  follows  at 
one  o’clock.  Many  persons  serve  coffee  and  tea  at  three  or 
four  o’clock.  At  half  past  seven  or  eight,  dinner — the 
principal  meal — is  served.  Different  wines  accompany  this 
meal,  sherry,  claret,  champagne,  and  sometimes  stronger 
liquors  or  beer  which  has  been  imported  from  England. 
Lately  a better  and  lighter  malt  liquor  from  Vienna  has 
taken  the  place  of  the  English  beer.  In  many  houses  one 
or  two  of  these  meals  is  dispensed  with;  but,  as  a general 
thing,  the  life  of  the  foreigner  in  India  is  entirely  too 
luxurious,  especially  when  it  is  compared  with  the  frugal 
habits  of  Southern  Europe.  This  is  also  the  opinion  of 
several  of  the  older  English  residents  in  Ceylon  who  lead 
simpler  lives,  and  who,  after  an  unbroken  residence  in  the 
tropics  of  twenty  or  thirty  years,  still  enjoy  perfect  health, 
as,  for  instance,  Dr.  Thwaites,  the  former  excellent  director 
of  the  Botanic  Garden  at  Parcedenia. 


V. 

Kaduwella. 

The  many  delightful  experiences  and  noble  impressions 
of  my  first  week  in  Ceylon  were  crowned  by  a memorable 
excursion,  in  company  with  my  friends,  on  the  27th  of 
November,  to  Kaduwella.  It  was  my  first  Sunday  on  the 
island,  and,  although  the  manifold  enjoyments  of  the  past 
week-days  made  every  one  of  them  seem  a holiday,  my 
festal  mood  attained  its  highest  pitch  on  this  my  first  ex- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


67 


tended  tour  into  the  more  distant  surroundings  of  Colombo, 
and,  as  the  scenery  of  this  part  is  essentially  the  same  as 
that  of  the  whole  south  west  coast-land,  I will  attempt  just 
here  to  give  you  a brief  description  of  it. 

Kaduwella  is  a strictly  Singhalese  village  on  the  south 
bank  of  the  Kalany  River,  ten  English  miles  from  Whist 
Bungalow.  The  excellent  carriage  road  (which  continues 
further  to  Awisawella  and  Fort  Ruanwelle)  now  skirts  the 
wooded  banks  of  the  Kalany,  now  crosses  the  country  in 
wide  detours  to  avoid  the  numerous  windings  of  the  riyer. 
Like  all  the  carriage  roads  on  the  island  this  one  is  in 
perfect  repair,  a fact  that  is  all  the  more  deserving  of 
praise  when  you  remember  that  the  violent  and  copious 
rains  frequently  wash  out  long  stretches  of  the  road,  and 
render  it  an  extremely  difficult  matter  to  maintain  a high- 
way in  such  excellent  condition.  But  the  English  Govern- 
ment justly  recognizes  the  importance  of  constructing  and 
maintaining  perfect  media  of  communication  in  Ceylon  as 
well  as  all  the  rest  of  her  colonies;  and  it  speaks  yolumes  for 
her  unequalled  talent  for  colonization  that,  in  order  to  ac- 
complish her  purpose — even  in  the  face  of  almost  insuper- 
able difficulties — she  spares  neither  expense  nor  labor. 

My  hosts  from  Whist  Bungalow'  and  several  other  Ger- 
man countrymen,  who  were  living  at  the  neighboring  Elie 
House  (once  occupied  by  Sir  Emerson  Tennent),  had  made 
all  the  necessary  arrangements  for  the  gastronomic  success 
of  our  excursion.  All  the  solids  and  fluids  requisite  for  an 
opulent  breakfast  a la  fourchette , together  with  the  fire- 
arms, ammunition,  bottles,  and  tin-cases  for  my  collections, 
etc.,  were  packed  in  small,  open  caleshes  drawn  by  a brisk 
Burmese  pony,  or  else  a stronger  Australian  horse.  Almost 
all  the  carriage  and  riding  horses  are  imported  from  the 
mainland  of  India,  or  from  Australia,  as  the  practice  of 
breeding  horses  is  not  successful  in  Ceylon.  European 
horses,  being  unable  to  endure  the  climate,  soon  become 
useless.  The  little  ponies  from  Burmah  travel  excellently 
well,  although  their  powers  of  endurance  are  by  no  means 
great,  ten  miles  (two  or  three  hours)  being  sufficient  to  tire 
them  out.  The  coachmen  are  usually  Tamils  clad  in  white 
jackets  with  red  turbans;  they  display  an  astonishing 
amount  of  endurance  as  they  run  behind  the  calesh,  or 
stand  sideways  on  the  step;  they  are  obliged  to  keep  up  a 


68 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


continual  hallooing,  as  the  Singhalese  (especially  the  aged 
people),  together  with  their  oxen  and  dogs,  seem  to  have  a 
decided  predilection  for  being  run  oyer  by  a swiftly-travel- 
ing carriage* 

The  sun  was  not  yet  up  when  we  drove  away  from  Whist 
Bungalow,  through  the  suburb  of  Mutwal  and  the  contigu- 
ous grand  pass,  out  into  the  smiling  garden-land  which, 
alternated  by  jungle,  rice-fields,  and  meadows,  stretches  for 
miles  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  The  suburbs  of  Co- 
lombo, like  those  of  all  the  cities  on  the  island,  extend  im- 
perceptibly, frequently  for  miles,  into  straggling  villages 
along  the  road;  and  as  each  native  hut  is  surrounded  by  a 
garden,  a field,  or  a bit  of  woodland,  it  is  often  difficult  to 
clearly  define  the  limits  of  the  separate  villages.  In  the 
densely  populated  and  richly  cultivated  portions  of  the  flat 
coast-land  there  is  no  perceptible  interruption,  and  one 
may  say  that  the  entire  stretch  of  coast  from  Colombo  to 
Matura, — the  most  southerly  point  of  the  island,— is  occu- 
pied by  a single,  long  village,  interspersed  with  fruit-gar- 
dens, jungle,  and . cocoa-forest.  Everywhere  the  same 
rustic  elements  characterize  these  paradisal  gardens:  pic- 
turesque brown  earth-huts  shaded  by  bread-fruit  and  mango 
trees,  by  cocoa  and  areca  palms,  garlanded  by  pisang  hedges, 
ornamented  with  the  gigantic  foliage  of  the  caladium  and 
ricinus,  the  elegant  papaya  trees,  manihot  shrubs,  and 
other  useful  plants. 

On  benches  in  front  of  the  open  huts  the  indolent 
Singhalese  is  stretched  out  in  dreamy  dolce  far  niente , en- 
gaged in  lazily  surveying  his  ever-green  environments,  or 
in  leisurely  searching  for  the  tiny  insect  that  infests  the 
long  black  hair  of  his  head.  Naked  children  are  playing 
everywhere,  darting  after  the  gaudy  butterflies  and  lizards 
that  animate  the  scene.  At  certain  hours  of  the  day  num- 
bers of  ox-carts,  single  and  double,  are  to  be  seen  on  the 
much-frequented  road;  these  conveyances  form  the  chief, 
indeed  almost  the  only,  means  of  transport  and  communica- 
tion for  the  native  population.  The  oxen  belong  to  the  zebu 
or  Indian  humped  bison  ( Bos  indicus)  family,  and  are 
distinguished  by  a fleshy  protuberance  or  hump  on  the 
shoulders.  Like  the  bovine  genera  of  Europe,  the  zebu 
family  of  India  has  many  species;  some  of  them — a dimin- 
utive species — are  very  swift  and  agile.  Horses  are  rarely 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


69 


used  by  the  natives,  and  asses  are  unknown  to  the  island. 
Around  the  huts,  everywhere,  are  large  numbers  of  dogs 
(here  called  “pariah  dogs”),  all  of  the  same  species,  ugly, 
bristly,  brownish-yellow  creatures,  whose  form,  color,  and 
disposition  betray  their  jackal  origin.  Numbers  of  small, 
black  hogs  (Sus  indicus)  are  also  to  be  found  everywhere; 
also  long-legged  lean  goats;  sheep  are  more  rarely  seen. 
There  are  numbers  of  chickens  around  the  huts,  but  very 
few  ducks  and  geese.  These  are  the  simple,  ever-recurring 
elements  which  compose  the  village  scenery  of  the  whole 
south-west  coast  of  Ceylon.  But  there  is  such  a delicious 
naturalness  about  the  simple  components,  they  are  grouped 
with  such  charming  disregard  for  order  and  regularity  and 
are  of  such  infinite  variety,  they  are  illumined  and  tinted 
by  the  radiant  tropical  sunshine,  the  near  seashore  or 
river  bank  lends  them  fresh  attractions,  the  background  of 
forest,  or  distant  mountain  land,  so  much  poetry,  that  one 
never  tires  admiring  them,  or  thinking  that  the  landscape 
and  genre  painter  might  here  find  a boundless  wealth  of 
exquisite  subjects — subjects  that  are  almost  unknown  to 
the  art-exhibitions  of  the  present. 

A peculiarly  charming  effect  of  this  Ceylonese  coast 
landscape  is  the  middle  point  which  it  seems  to  occupy 
between  garden  and  forest  scenery,  between  nature  and 
cultivation.  Often  one  imagines  one’s  self  in  the  midst  of 
the  most  savage  forest,  encompassed  by  tall  magnificent 
trees  festooned  and  overgrown  with  lianas  of  all  sorts. 
But  a hut  that  lies  quite  in  the  shadow  of  a bread-fruit 
tree,  a dog  or  a pig  emerging  from  the  bushes,  playing- 
children  hiding  under  caladium  leaves,  tell  us  that  we  are 
only  in  a Ceylonese  garden.  On  the  other  hand,  the  actual 
forest  contiguous  to  the  garden,  with  its  multifarious  com- 
binations of  the  most  different  trees,  its, orchids,  spice 
lilies,  hibiscus,  and  other  showy  flowering  plants,  offers 
such  a variety  that  we  readily  believe  ourselves  in  a beauti- 
ful garden.  This  peculiar  harmony  between  nature  and 
cultivation  is  also  expressed  by  the  human  life  that  ani- 
mates these  forest-gardens;  the  clothing  and  habitations  of 
the  Singhalese  are  of  such  primitive  simplicity  that  the 
familiar  descriptions  of  “genuine  savages”  might  truth- 
fully be  applied  to  them,  although  they  are  descended  from 
an  ancient  and  cultured  people. 


70 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


All  this  is  doubly  attractive  and  picturesque  in  the  early 
morning,  when  the  rays  of  the  sun  are  just  beginning  to 
peer  through  the  interstices  of  the  dewy  foliage,  when  they 
cast  long-drawn  shadows  of  the  slender  stems  and  feathered 
crowns  of  the  palms,  and  fling  thousands  of  sparkling 
gems  over  the  cloven  leaves  of  the  pisang. 

During  the  time  of  my  visit,  at  the  period  of  the  south- 
west monsoon,  the  morning  hours  were  unfailingly  clear 
and  cloudless,  and  always  refreshed  by  a deliciously  cool 
and  invigorating  breeze  from  the  sea,  although  the  ther- 
mometer usually  registered  20°  R.,  rarely  less  than  18°.  At 
nine  or  ten  o’clock  the  heat  increased  and  became  oppres- 
sive; the  sky  was  overcast  by  heavy  storm  clouds,  which 
towards  midday  discharged  copious  showers.  If  these 
ceased  by  four  or  five  o’clock  then  the  evening  was  most 
delightful — especially  if  the  setting  sun  flooded  the  clouds 
in  the  western  sky  with  a radiance  that  defies  all  descrip- 
tion. This  year  the  rains  were  not  as  regular  as  in  past 
years;  there  were  also  other  exceptions  to  the  general  rule. 
On  the  whole,  however,  my  excursions  were  usually  favored 
by  pleasant  weather,  and  but  few  of  my  plans  were  frus- 
trated by  long-continued  rains. 

After  a two  hours’  very  interesting  ride  we  arrived  at  the 
village  of  Kaduwella,  which  is  picturesquely  situated  in  a 
wide  sweep  of  the  Kalany  Eiver.  Especially  charming  is 
the  situation  of  the  rest-house,  under  the  shade  of  the 
most  beautiful  trees,  on  an  eminence  overlooking  the  river, 
at  which  we  alighted  and  put  up  our  ponies.  Rest-house  is 
the  name  given  to  the  houses  which  the  government,  in 
the  absence  of  hotels,  has  erected  in  Ceylon  and  India  for  the 
convenience  of  travelers,  and  which  are  under  its  control 
and  management.  In  all  Ceylon  there  are  but  three  cities 
that  can  boast  of  a hotel:  Colombo,  G-alle,  and  Kandy.  The 
native  does  not  require  such  houses  of  entertainment,  con- 
sequently the  foreign  traveler  is  entirely  dependent  either 
on  the  hospitality  of  the  European  colonists  (where  there 
are  such)  or  on  the  government  rest-houses,  which  truly 
sypply  a most  urgent  need.  The  rest-house  keeper,  who  is 
employed  by  the  government,  is  obliged  to  furnish  the  trav- 
eler (for  a small  sum — usually  a rupee — that  is  paid 
over  to  the  government)  with  a room  and  a bed,  as  well  as 
necessary  food.  Price  and  quality  of  the  latter  vary  con- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON  71 

siderably,  as  also  the  condition  of  the  rest-houses  them- 
selves. 

In  the  south-western  parts  of  Ceylon,  where  I spent 
most  of  my  time,  I found  them  generally  good  and  very 
comfortable — particularly  at  Belligam,  where  I set  up  my 
laboratory  in  the  rest-house  for  six  weeks.  But  the  reverse 
of  good  may  be  said  of  most  of  these  government  lodging- 
houses  in  many  parts  of  the  interior:  in  the  northern  and 
eastern  parts  of  the  island  their  accommodations  are  both 
inferior  and  expensive,  as,  for  instance,  in  Neuera  Ellia, 
where  I had  to  pay  for  an  egg  a half,  and  for  a cup  of  tea, 
a whole  shilling.  The  rest-house  at  Kaduwella  is  one  of 
the  smaller  and  less  pretentious  lodging-houses,  and  as  we 
bad  brought  with  us  our  own  provisions,  we  required  noth- 
ing from  it  but  some  chairs  to  sit  on,  water  and  fire  to 
prepare  our  meal,  and  permission  to  eat  it  on  the  airy  ver- 
anda, whose  sheltering  roof  would  protect  us  from  the 
sun  and  rain,  for  all  of  which  we  were  taxed  accord- 

ingly- 

In  India  nothing  but  death  is  gratuitous! 

Shortly  after  our  arrival  we  shouldered  our  guns  and 
started  out  to  take  advantage  of  the  beautiful  morning. 
Behind  the  village,  and  to  the  south  of  the  Kalanv  River,  is 
a stretch  of  undulating  country,  over  which  our  hunting 
party  dispersed  itself.  The  lower  portions  of  this  territory 
are  covered  with  grass  meadows  and  rice  fields,  intersected 
by  numerous  drains  and  canals,  and  adorned  by  miniature 
lakes,  into  which  the  latter  empty.  The  elevations,  gently- 
sloping  hills  from  one  to  two  hundred  feet  high,  are 
clothed  with  dense  jungle — and  here  I made  my  first  ac- 
quaintance with  this  characteristic  form  of  the  landscape 
which  on  the  whole  island,  wdrerever  there  is  no  cultiva- 
tion, plays  so  important  a part.  The  jungle  cannot  justly 
be  called  a “primeval  forest/5  that  is  a region  untrod- 
den by  the  foot  of  man  (in  Ceylon  such  tracts  are  of  small 
extent  and  rare  occurrence);  but  it  corresponds  with  our 
ideas  of  a primitive  forest  in  that  it,  by  its  higher  develop- 
ment, represents  a forest  form  that  is  composed  of  a dense 
and  impenetrable  tangle  of  the  most  diverse  varieties  of 
trees.  These  have  shot  upward  with  a total  disregard  for 
regularity,  unrestrained  by  human  influence,  and  are  so 
thickly  overgrown  with  multitudes  of  creepers  and  climb- 


72 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


ing  ferns,  orchids,  and  other  parasites,  that  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  disentangle  the  closely  interwoven  forms. 
That  such  a jungle,  perfect  in  all  its  parts,  is  really  impen- 
etrable, unaided  by  fire  and  axe,  my  first  attempt  to  enter 
it  convinced  me.  A good  hour’s  work  enabled  me  to  ad- 
vance but  a few  steps  into  the  thicket;  then,  utterly  dis- 
comfited, I desisted  from  further  attempt.  I was  stung  by 
mosquitoes,  bitten  by  ants,  with  torn  clothing,  bleeding 
arms  and  legs,  wounded  by  the  thousands  of  sharp  thorns 
with  which  the  calamus,  hibiscus,  euphorbias,  lantanas, 
and  a host  of  other  jungle  plants  repulse  every  effort  to 
penetrate  their  mysterious  labyrinth.  But  my  vain  at- 
tempt was  not  entirely  without  reward.  I not  only  became 
thoroughly  familiar  with  the  character  of  a jungle,  with  its 
splendid  trees  and  lianas,  I also  beheld  many  new  vegetable 
and  animal  forms  that  were  of  the  greatest  interest  to  me. 
I saw  the  magnificent  Gloriosa  superba — the  poisonous 
climbing  lily  of  Ceylon — with  its  red-gold  chalices;  the 
prickly  Hibiscus  radiatus , with  huge  sulphur-colored 
flower-cups,  and  hovering  over  them  gigantic  black  butter- 
flies with  blood-red  spots  on  their  tail-shaped  wing-appen- 
dages, and  beetles  that  gleamed  with  a metallic  lustre  in  the 
sunlight.  But  what  delighted  me  most  was,  that  on  my 
first  introduction  to  a Ceylon  jungle  I should  also  become 
acquainted  with  two  of  its  most  characteristic  inhabitants 
— members  of  the  highest  animal  class:  apes  and  parrots. 
A flock  of  green  parrots  flew  screaming  from  a tall  tree  that 
towered  above  the  jungle  when  they  saw  my  gun;  and  at 
the  same  time  a number  of  large  black  apes  fled  chattering 
into  the  thicket.  I did  not  succeed  in  getting  a shot  at 
either  the  former  or  the  latter — they  were  evidently  too  fa- 
miliar with  the  deadly  effects  of  fire-arms.  However,  I 
Was  consoled  by  the  fact  that  my  first  shot  secured  for  me 
a colossal  lizard,  or  iguana,  over  six  feet  long.  This  is  the 
remarkable  Hydrosaurus  salvator , an  animal  much  feared 
by  the  superstitious  natives.  The  huge,  crocodile-like 
beast  was  sunning  himself  on  the  edge  of  a ditch,  and  the 
first  shot  was  so  happily  aimed  at  his  head  that  instant 
death  was  the  result;  if  the  ball  strikes  a less  vital  part  of 
the  body  the  beast,  which  is  very  tenacious  of  life,  will 
dart  hastily  into  the  water  and  disappear;  with  their  pow- 
erful scaly  tails  they  can  defend  themselves  so  effectively 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


73 


that  a blow  from  them  frequently  causes  serious  wounds, 
sometimes  even  a broken  limb. 

After  we  had  waded  several  ditches,  and  rambled  some 
distance  through  a pleasant  grove,  we  ascended  a hill  on 
which  is  a famous  Buddhist  temple,  the  object  of  numerous 
pilgrimages.  We  passed  several  groups  of  huts,  which, 
half-hidden  in  the  dense  shade  of  mighty  trees  (termina- 
lia  and  laurels),  looked  like  so  many  toy-houses.  Further 
on  we  crossed  a sunny  clearing,  in  which  gorgeous  butter- 
flies and  birds  were  flying  about  in  great  numbers,  particu- 
larly woodpeckers  and  wild  pigeons.  At  length  a flight  of 
steps  between  talipot  palms  led  us  up  to  the  temple,  which 
is  in  a rarely  picturesque  nook  in  the  middle  of  a tall  grove 
and  under  the  shelter  of  a huge  granite  rock.  A wide 
grotto  that  has  evidently  been  enlarged  by  artificial  means 
extends  some  distance  beneath  the  overhanging  mass  of 
granite.  The  pillared  hall  of  the  temple  is  built  into  the 
grotto  in  such  a manner  that  the  naked  rock  not  only 
forms  the  rear  wall,  but  the  material  for  the  colossal 
image  of  the  recumbent  Buddha.  The  figure  of  the  god 
is  the  same  in  all  the  Buddhist  temples  I visited  while  in 
Ceylon,  as  are  also  the  monotonous  paintings  on  the  walls, 
which,  in  the  interior  of  the  temple,  represent  scenes  from 
the  earthly  life  of  Buddha.  These  works  of  art,  with  their 
stiff,  angular  lines,  and  simple,  harsh  colors  (principally 
yellow,  brown,  and  red),  remind  one  of  the  ancient  Egyp- 
tian wall-paintings,  although  they  differ  materially  in  the 
details.  The  prostrate  figure  of  Buddha,  which  rests  on 
the  right  arm,  and  is  enveloped  in  a yellow  vestment,  al- 
ways exhibits  the  same  staring  and  rigid  expression,  that 
reminds  one  of  the  forced  smiles  on  the  faces  of  the  ancient 
iEginetan  statues.  Beside  most  of  the  Buddha  temples  is 
a dagoba,  a bell-shaped  dome  without  any  opening,  that  is 
said  to  contain  a relic  of  the  god.  The  dagobas  vary 
greatly  in  size,  from  that  of  a large  church-bell  to  the  cir- 
cumference of  the  dome  on  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome.  Near 
the  dagoba  there  is  usually  a large  ancient  Bo-tree,  or  sa- 
cred fig  tree  ( Ficus  religiosa).  In  many  parts  of  Ceylon 
these  “ Buddha  trees,”  with  their  powerful  trunks,  fantas- 
tically interlaced  roots,  and  huge  crowns  of  foliage,  form 
the  most  attractive  features  in  the  picturesque  environs  of 
the  temples.  The  heart-shaped  leaves  on  their  long  slender 


74 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


stems  quiver  like  the  foliage  of  our  northern  trembling 
aspen.  A flight  of  granite  steps  behind  the  temple  leads  to 
the  upper  surface  of  the  rock,  from  whence  may  be  had  a 
fine  view  of  the  neighboring  hills  and  across  the  plain  to 
the  river.  Palms  and  bananas  adorn  the  immediate  sur- 
roundings of  the  temple,  and  behind  them  an  impenetrable 
thicket  with  lianas  of  all  sorts  forms  a mystical  back- 
ground that  fitly  corresponds  with  the  sanctity  of  the  holy 
place.  In  front  of  the  temple,  on  a rock  beside  the  steps, 
crouched  an  old  bald-headed  priest  in  a yellow  gown,  and 
while  I made  a hasty  sketch  of  him  a Singhalese  lad 
climbed  a cocoa  tree  near,  and  fetched  me  one  of  its  golden 
nuts;  I found  the  sweetish,  slightly  acid  water  it  contained 
a most  refreshing  drink  for  the  hot  noonday. 

We  returned  to  Kaduwella  through  a different  part  of 
the  forest,  and  saw  a number  of  new  insects,  birds,  and 
plants;  among  the  latter  the  celebrated  teak  tree  ( Tectonia 
grandis),  as  well  as  gigantic  specimens  of  the  cactus- 
formed  wolfs-milk  (Euphorbia  antiquorum ),  with  bare, 
blue-green  prismatic  branches.  The  latter  part  of  our 
route,  through  swampy  meadows,  was  so  excessively  hfft 
that  our  first  act  on  arriving  at  the  rest-house  was  a plunge 
in  the  river — a delicious  refreshment  that  gave  the  merry 
breakfast  which  followed  a keener  relish. 

In  the  afternoon  I rowed  across  the  river  to  the  thicket 
on  the  opposite  bank,  and  found  a number  of  plant-forms 
hitherto  unknown  to  me — namely,  Aroidece  and  Cannacece. 
Along  the  banks  of  the  river  itself  elegant  bamboos  alter- 
nating with  terminalia,  cedars,  and  mangroves,  form  the 
prevailing  character  of  the  forest. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when,  richly  laden  with  zoo- 
logical, botanical,  and  art  treasures,  we  returned  to  Co- 
lombo. Afterwards  I spent  many  more  pleasant  days  in 
the  jungles  and  along  the  river  banks  of  Ceylon  (a£d 
some  of  them  were  more  beautiful  than  the  banks  at  Kadu- 
wella); but,  as  so  often  in  life,  the  first  impressions  of  new 
and  strange  objects  are  far  more  enduring,  and  not  to  be 
eclipsed  by  later  superior  attractions;  consequently,  the 
first  day  in  the  jungle  of  Kaduwella  will  ever  remain  a 
memorable  event  of  my  life. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON \ 


75 


VI. 

Paredekia. 

Ik  the  central  province  of  Ceylon,  1500  feet  above  the 
sea,  lies  the  former  capital  of  the  island,  the  celebrated 
city  of  Kandy,  and  but  a few  miles  distant  from  it  Pare- 
denia,  a small  town  that  for  a brief  season,  five  hundred 
years  ago,  likewise  enjoyed  the  honor  of  being  the  regal 
residence  of  an  ancient  king.  Here,  in  1819,  the  English 
Government  established  a botanic  garden,  and  entrusted 
Dr.  Gardner  with  its  management.  His  successor,  Dr. 
Thwaites,  the  learned  author  of  an  excellent  “ I lor  a Cey - 
lonica ,”  for  thirty  years  did  everything  in  his  power  to 
raise  the  garden  to  a standard  that  would  correspond  with 
its  peculiar  climatic  and  local  advantages.  On  his  retire- 
ment, a few  years  ago,  Dr.  Henry  Trimen  was  appointed 
director  of  the  garden,  and  from  this  gentleman  I received 
a cordial  invitation  to  visit  Paredenia.  I accepted  the  kind 
invitation  all  the  more  readily,  because  I had  already  in 
Europe  heard  and  read  a great  deal  about  the  splendid  col- 
lection of  rare  plants  in  the  Botanic  Garden  of  Paredenia, 
and  my  great  expectations  were  not  disappointed.  If  Cey- 
lon is  in  truth  a paradise  for  the  botanist,  as  well  as  for 
every  plant-friend,  then  Paredenia  may  justly  be  termed 
the  heart  of  this  botanical  Eden. 

Paredenia  and  Kandy  are  connected  by  a railway  (the 
first  in  Ceylon)  with  Colombo,  and  the  time  necessary  for  a 
journey  between  the  two  termini  is  from  four  to  five  hours. 
At  seven  o’clock  in  the  morning  on  the  4th  of  December 
I started  from  the  Central  Station  in  Colombo,  and  was  in 
Paredenia  by  eleven  o’clock.  Like  all  true  Europeans  in 
Ceylon  I had  to  travel  first  class  (“  couleur  Handle  oblige”). 
Only  the  yellow  and  brown  “burghers  and  half-castes” 
travel  in  the  second-class  carriages,  while  those  of  the 
third  class  are  occupied  solely  by  the  natives — the  brown 
Singhalese  and  black  Tamils.  I was  surprised  not  to  find 
a fourth-class  carriage  for  the  latter,  and  a fifth  for  the 
despised  “low  castes.”  The  natives,  by  the  way,  are  very 
fond  of  railway  travel,  the  only  amusement  on  which  they 
willingly  expend  much  money.  From  the  opening  of  the 
line  to  the  present  day  many  of  the  natives  daily  ride  up 


76 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


and  down  the  wonderful  road,  merely  for  the  pleasure  it 
gives  them.  The  carriages  are  light  and  airy;  those  of  the 
first  class  are  furnished  with  excellent  protection  against 
the  hot  climate.  The  conductors  and  the  white-clad,  hel- 
meted  guards  are  English.  Excellent  order  and  punctu- 
ality reign  here,  as  on  all  the  lines  managed  by  the  British 
Government. 

The  first  part  of  the  journey  from  Colombo  to  Paredenia 
is  across  flat  country,  mostly  covered  with  swampy  jungle, 
alternated  with  rice  fields  and  marshes.  In  the  latter 
lie  numbers  of  buffaloes,  their  black  bodies  half  sub- 
merged in  the  water,  while  snowy  herons  carefully  pick  the 
insects  from  them.  Farther  on  the  line  approaches  the 
mountains,  and  at  Rambukkana  the  ascent  begins.  The 
hours  journey  between  this  station  and  the  one  following, 
Kadugannava,  is,  as  far  as  scenery  is  concerned,  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  I have  ever  enjoyed.  The  line  with  many 
curves  winds  upward  from  the  wide  trough  of  the  valley 
along  the  steep  northern  face  of  a rocky  declivity.  At  first 
the  eye  is  attracted  by  the  manifold  changes  in  the  scenery 
of  the  immediate  foreground;  mighty  blocks  of  gray  gneiss 
rise  above  the  exuberant  masses  of  verdure  which  fill  the 
narrow  ravines  on  either  side;  lianas  of  most  exquisite 
form  hang  from  the  tops  of  tall  trees;  charming  little  cas- 
cades leap  merrily  from  points  high  above  us;  and,  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  railway,  we  occasionally  see  the  excellent 
public  road,  now  so  rarely  used  and  once  so  frequently  tra- 
versed, which  the  British  Government  built  from  Colombo 
to  Kandy,  and  which  only  her  enduring  sway  over  the  lat- 
ter made  feasible.  Farther  on  the  glance  roves  from  the 
broad  green  valley  expanding  at  our  feet  to  the  lofty 
mountain  chain  rising  on  the  other  side.  Although  the 
configuration  of  the  highland  mountains  is,  upon  the 
whole,  uniform,  and  not  especially  interesting  (chiefly 
truncated  cones  of  granite  or  gneiss),  yet  there  are  isolated 
peaks  here  and  there  which  obtrude  themselves  on  one’s 
notice — as,  for  instance,  the  peculiar  mass  which  bears  the 
name  of  “ Bible  Rock.”  One  of  the  grandest  sights  is 
obtained  from  “Sensation  Rock,”  where  the  line,  which 
has  passed  through  several  tunnels,  beneath  overhanging 
rocks,  runs  close  to  the  very  edge  of  a precipice  that  has  a 
sheer  descent  of  1200-1400  feet.  Roaring  cascades  leap 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


77 


from  the  rocky  wall  overhead,  and  dashing  under  the 
bridges  of  the  line  are  transformed  into  veils  of  mist,  be- 
spangled with  every  tint  of  the  rainbow,  before  they  reach 
the  emerald  depths  below. 

The  valley  at  our  feet  is  covered  partly  with  jungle  and 
partly  by  cultivated  land,  over  which  are  scattered  numer- 
ous huts,  gardens,  and  terraced  rice  fields.  Everywhere 
above  the  lower  shrubbery  tower  the  giant  stems  of  the 
mighty  Palmyra  palms  ( Cory pha  umbraculifera ),  the  proud 
queen  among  the  palms  of  Ceylon.  Its  perfectly  upright 
stem  resembles  a slender  white  marble  column,  and  fre- 
quently grows  to  a height  of  over  one  hundred  feet.  Every 
one  of  the  fan-shaped  leaves  composing  the  ponderous 
crown  would  cover  a half-circular  space  sixteen  feet  in 
diameter — a superficial  area  of  two  hundred  square  feet; 
they,  like  every  part  of  the  tree,  are  used  for  various  pur- 
poses, principally  for  thatching;  they  are  specially  cele- 
brated, however,  for  their  being  formerly  employed  by  the 
Singhalese  as  a substitute  for  paper,  and  are  still  used  as 
such  for  many  purposes.  The  ancient  “ Puskola”  manu- 
scripts in  the  Buddha  monasteries  were  written  with  an 
iron  style  on  “ola”  paper — narrow  strips  of  talipot  leaves 
boiled  in  water  and  dried.  The  talipot  blooms  but  once 
during  its  life,  usually  between  its  fiftieth  and  eightieth 
years.  The  stately  pyramid  of  bloom  in  the  centre  of  the 
leaf-crown  frequently  reaches  a length  of  thirty  or  forty 
feet,  and  is  composed  of  millions  of  small  creamy  blossoms; 
when  the  nuts  have  ripened  the  tree  dies.  I was  fortu- 
nately favored  with  the  rare  sight  of  an  unusual  number  of 
talipot  palms  in  bloom;  between  Kambukkana  and  Kadu- 
gannava  I counted  over  sixty,  and  along  the  entire  line  over 
one  hundred.  Numerous  excursions  were  made  from  Co- 
lombo to  view  the  magnificent  spectacle. 

On  the  pass  of  Kadugannava,  nearly  2000  feet  above  the 
sea,  the  railway  as  well  as  the  neighboring  public  road 
reach  their  highest  point;  a monument  commemorating 
the  services  of  Captain  Dawson,  builder  of  the  latter  road, 
has  been  erected  here.  This  pass  is  also  a watershed.  The 
numerous  streams  we  saw  threading  the  green  velvet  valley 
like  so  many  strands  of  silver,  flow  either  into  the  Kalany- 
ganga  or  the  Maha-oya,  both  of  which  debouch  on  the  sea 
from  the  west  coast.  Those  streams  on  the  eastern  slope 


78 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


of  the  Kadugannava  flow  into  the  Mahawelli-ganga,  the 
largest  river  on  the  island,  which  is  134  miles  long,  and 
flows  into  the  sea  from  the  east  coast  at  Trincomalie. 
Along  the  banks  of  the  latter  stream,  beside  which  extend 
plantations  of  sugar-cane,  the  train  brought  us  in  a quarter 
of  an  hour  to  Paredenia,  the  last  station  before  Kandy. 
When,  at  eleven  o’clock,  I arrived  at  Paredenia  I found  Dr. 
Trimen  awaiting  me;  after  a cordial  welcome  he  drove  me 
in  his  carriage  to  the  Botanic  Garden,  a mile  distant  from 
the  railway  station.  Just  before  reaching  the  Garden,  we 
crossed  the  foaming  river  on  a beautiful  bridge  of  satin- 
wood,  with  a single  span  of  two  hundred  feet.  When  the 
water  is  at  its  usual  level,  the  highest  point  of  this  span  is 
seventy  feet  above  the  river;  and  some  idea  may  be  formed 
of  the  enormous  bulk  of  water  that  surcharges  the  rivers 
of  Ceylon  after  a heavy  rain,  when  one  learns  that  during 
these  periods  the  bridge  is  but  from  ten  to  twenty  feet 
above  the  flood — the  water  having  risen  from  fifty  to  sixty 
feet. 

The  entrance  to  the  garden  is  through,  an  avenue  of 
noble  india-rubber  trees  ( Ficus  elastica).  This  is  the  tree 
whose  inspissated  milk-sap  forms  the  caoutchouc  of  com- 
merce, and  whose  young  plants  are  frequently  seen  in  the 
greenhouses  of  our  rugged  north.  While  these  india-rub- 
ber plants  with  us  are  objects  of  admiration  when  their 
slender  stems  grow  to  the  height  of  the  ceiling,  and  their 
few  branches  bear  from  fifty  to  one  hundred  leathery,  egg- 
shaped  leaves,  here  in  their  hot  mother-country  they  de- 
velop into  gigantic  trees  of  the  highest  rank,  and  rival  our 
proudest  European  oaks.  The  immense  crown  of  many 
thousands  of  leaves  covers  with  its  mighty  branches  (40- 
50  feet  long)  the  superficial  surface  of  a stately  palace, 
while  from  the  base  of  the  thick  trunk  extends  a net-work 
of  roots  that  frequently  measures  from  one  hundred  to  two 
hundred  feet  in  diameter — far  more  than  the  height  of  the 
tree  itself.  This  astounding  root-crown  consists  mostly  of 
twenty  or  thirty  main  roots,  from  each  of  which  branch  as 
many  more — all  of  them  curving  and  twisting  over  the 
ground  like  so  many  gigantic  serpents,  for  which  reason 
the  Singhalese  call  it  the  “snake-tree,”  and  poets  at  vari- 
ous times  have  likened  it  to  the  snake-entwined  Laocoon. 
The  spaces  between  the  roots  form  veritable  closets  or  sen- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


79 


try  boxes,  in  some  of  which  a man  standing  upright  may 
effectually  conceal  himself.  Similar  root-columns  are  de- 
veloped by  other  large  trees  of  different  orders. 

Scarcely  had  I expressed  my  admiration  for  this  avenue 
of  snake-trees,  when  my  eyes  were  enchained  by  another 
wonderful  sight  near  the  garden  gate.  There,  as  if  to 
greet  the  new-comer,  stood  a huge  bouquet  of  palms,  com- 
posed of  those  species  indigenous  to  the  island,  and  a num- 
ber of  foreign  representatives  of  this  noblest  of  tropical 
families;  garlands  of  lovely  creepers  festooned  their  crowns, 
while  their  stems  were  ornamented  with  the  most  exquisite 
parasitic  ferns.  A similar  but  handsomer  and  more  ex- 
tensive group  stands  near  the  end  of  the  main  alley,  and 
is  encircled  by  a lovely  wreath  of  flowering  plants.  Here 
the  alley  branched,  the  path  on  the  left  leading  to  a slight 
eminence  on  which  stands  the  bungalow  of  the  director. 
This  enviable  home  is,  like  most  Ceylonese  villas,  a low, 
one-storied  structure,  encircled  by  an  airy  veranda  whose 
wide,  projecting  roof  is  supported  by  a row  of  white  pil- 
lars. Eoof  and  pillars  are  adorned  with  luxurious  vines, 
large-flowered  orchids,  odorous  vanilla,  showy  fuchsias, 
and  other  bright  flowers;  choice  collections  of  flowering 
plants  and  ferns  embellish  the  garden  beds  which  surround 
the  house,  and  above  them  rise  the  shade-dispensing  crowns 
of  India’s  noblest  trees.  Numerous  gorgeous  butterflies 
and  beetles,  lizards  and  birds  animate  this  charming  pic- 
ture. 

As  the  villa  stands  on  the  highest  eminence  in  the  gar- 
den, and  the  broad,  velvety  lawn  slopes  away  from  it  on 
every  side,  the  view  from  the  veranda  embraces  a large  por- 
tion of  the  garden  with  several  of  its  most  attractive  tree- 
groups,  and  the  belt  of  tall  forest  trees  which  encloses  the 
meadow  land.  Beyond  them  rise  the  wooded  summits  of 
the  mountain  chain  which  encircles  Paredenia  valley. 

The  Mahawelli-ganga  flows  in  a wide,  semi-circular 
sweep  around  the  garden,  and  separates  it  from  yonder 
chain  of  hills;  consequently  it  lies  on  a horseshoe-shaped 
peninsula  whose  land  side,  where  it  adjoins  the  Kandyan 
valley,  is  effectually  protected  by  a tall,  impenetrable  hedge 
of  bamboo,  thorny  rattan,  and  other  equally  formidable 
plants.  As  the  climate  (at  1500  feet  above  sea  level)  is 
extraordinarily  favorable,  and  the  tropical  heat  of  the  shel- 


80 


INDIA  AND  GETLON.  * 


tered  valley,  in  conjunction  with  the  copious  rains  which 
fall  in  the  neighboring  mountains,  transform  the  Paredenia 
Garden  into  a natural  forcing-house,  it  will  be  readily  un- 
derstood that  the  tropical  flora  here  develops  her  wonderful 
productive  power  in  the  highest  degree.  My  first  ramble 
through  the  garden,  in  company  with  the  well-informed 
director,  convinced  me  that  this  was  indeed  the  case;  and 
although  I had  read  and  heard  so  much  about  the  wonder- 
ful attractions  of  the  exuberant  tropical  vegetation,  had 
longed  for  so  many  years  to  behold  it  with  my  own  eyes, 
the  actual  reality,  the  actual  enjoyment  of  the  fabled 
glories,  far  surpassed  my  highest  expectations,  and  that, 
too,  after  I had  been  prepared  by  what  I had  seen  in  Bom- 
bay and  Colombo.  In  the  four  days  I spent  at  Paredenia 
I gained  more  information  concerning  the  life  and  habits 
of  the  plant  world  than  I could  have  acquired  at  home  in 
as  many  months  by  the  most  diligent  botanical  study. 
And  when,  two  months  later,  I returned  to  the  garden  for 
a farewell  visit,  my  delight  was  as  great  as  when  I first 
beheld  its  manifold  attractions.  I cannot  adequately  ex- 
press my  gratitude  for  the  courteous  hospitality  and  wealth 
of  information  I received  from  my  good  friend,  Dr.  Trimen; 
the  seven  days  in  his  enchanting  bungalow  were,  for  me, 
seven  veritable  days  of  creation! 

At  the  time  of  my  visit  in  Paredenia  there  was  also  an- 
other English  botanist  there — Dr.  Marshall  Ward— who 
had  finished  his  studies  in  Germany,  and  whose  official 
title  was  “Royal  Cryptogamist.”  He  had  been  sent  here 
by  the  English  Government  to  investigate  the  “coffee-leaf 
disease” — the  formidable  fungus  disease  of  the  leaves  of 
the  coffee  tree,  which  for  years  has  been  ravaging  with  in- 
creasing violence  on  the  coffee  plantations,  destroying  large 
numbers  of  this  most  valuable  plant,  and  a most  profitable 
source  of  revenue  to  the  national  treasury.  Dr.  Ward  has 
made  a number  of  important  observations  and  experimental 
investigations  of  the  disease,  and  has  fully  elaborated  the 
natural  history  of  the  microscopic,  rust-like  fungus  ( Hemi - 
leja  vastatrix)-,  but  he  was  unfortunately  unable  to  dis- 
cover a radical  cure  for  it.  In  gratitude  for  his  wearisome 
labors  he  is  sharply  assailed  by  the  press — especially  by 
many  of  the  coffee  planters!  As  if  the  hundreds  of  natu- 
ralists in  Europe,  who  are  engaged  in  studying  similar 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


81 


fungus  epidemics,  always  succeeded  in  finding  a remedy  for 
a disease  directly  they  became  familiar  with  its  character! 
Such  is  rarely  the  case;  and  among  the  many  absurd  opin- 
ions which  are  daily  promulgated  in  our  “cultured  cir- 
cles/5 certainly  one  of  the  most  absurd  is  that  “for  every 
disease  there  must  be  a remedy.55  The  experienced  physi- 
cian and  naturalist,  who  is  familiar  with  the  actual  facts, 
knows  that  this  is  of  rarest  occurrence,  and  is  disposed 
rather  to  wonder  that  a radical  remedy  exists  for  certain 
diseases — as,  for  instance,  cinchona  for  fever. 

It  would  only  weary  the  indulgent  reader,  were  I to 
vainly  attempt,  without  the  aid  of  illustrations,  to  intro- 
duce him  to  the  botanical  Eden  of  Paredenia.  Nor  would 
the  numerous  water- color  sketches  and  drawings  I made 
while  there  materially  assist  me.  I shall  therefore  restrict 
myself  to  a few  general  observations,  and  the  notice  of 
several  of  the  most  important  plant-forms.  Vastly  unlike 
most  of  the  botanic  gardens  of  Europe,  whose  stiff  rows  of 
beds  remind  one  of  files  of  soldiers,  the  Paredenia  garden 
(150  acres)  is  arranged  with  regard  to  aesthetic  effect  as 
well  as  for  the  systematic  classification  of  the  plants.  The 
principal’ tree-groups,  and  plants  of  kindred  species,  are 
tastefully  distributed  over  grassy  lawns,  with  pleasant  paths 
leading  from  one  to  the  other.  In  a more  retired  part  of 
the  garden  are  the  less  attractive  beds  for  the  cultivation  of 
useful  plants.  Almost  all  of  the  useful  plants  of  the  torrid 
zone  (of  both  hemispheres)  are  here  represented;  seeds, 
scions,  and  fruits  of  many  of  them  are  annually  distributed 
among  the  planters  and  gardeners  on  the  island.  Thus 
the  garden  is  not  only  an  experimental  station  and  accli- 
matization garden,  but  it  has  for  years  conferred  important 
practical  benefits  on  the  colonists. 

The  singularly  favorable  climatic  and  topographical  con- 
ditions under  which  the  garden  flourishes  would  also  ad- 
mirably adapt  it  to  the  purely  scientific  experiments  of  a 
botanic  station . In  a like  manner,  as  our  young  zoologists 
are  able  to  prosecute  their  scientific  studies  in  the  lately 
established  zoological  stations  along  the  sea-coast  (at  Naples, 
Koscoff,  Brighton,  Triest,  etc.),  so  the  student  of  botany 
might  in  one  year  learn  more  in  the  botanic  station  of 
Paredenia  than  he  could  possibly  accomplish  in  ten  at 
home.  As  yet  the  tropical  zone,  the  richest  in  material 


82 


INDIA  AND  GETLON. 


for  botanical  study,  contains  no  such  institution.  If  the 
English  Government  were  to  establish  and  support  a botanic 
station  at  Paredenia,  and  a zoological  station  at  Galle  (for 
instance,  in  Captain  Bayley’s  charming  and  admirably 
adapted  bungalow),  she  would  add  to  the  important  ser- 
vices she  has  already  rendered  to  science  by  the  Challenger 
expedition  and  other  similar  scientific  undertakings;  she 
would  again  shame  the  continental  states  of  Europe  that 
have  no  money  to  expend  for  anything  but  breech-loaders 
and  cannon ! 

If,  among  the  many  wonders  in  Paredenia  Garden  only 
a few  are  to  be  briefly  noticed,  then  I shall  begin  with  the 
celebrated  giant  bamboos,  the  astonishment  and  admira- 
tion of  every  visitor.  Rambling  from  the  entrance  gate 
towards  the  river  and  along  its  lovely  bank,  we  see,  while 
still  at  a distance,  huge  green  bushes  over  one  hundred 
feet  high,  and  as  many  broad,  which  spread  their  plumed 
heads — like  the  feather  brushes  of  giants — high  above 
the  river  and  the  road,  casting  delightful  shadow  over 
both.  Approaching  nearer  we  see  that  this  stupendous 
mass  of  verdure  is  composed  of  numerous  (from  80  to  100) 
slender  stems  from  one  to  two  feet  thick,  which  have 
sprung  from  a common  root,  and  bear,  on  delicate,  nodding 
branches,  dense  clusters  of  the  daintiest  leaves.  And  these 
gigantic  trees  are  nothing  but  grasses!  Like  all  grass 
stalks  these  prodigious  tubes  are  jointed;  but  the  sheath 
which,  in  the  delicate  species,  is  a thin,  small  scale  at  the 
base  of  the  leaf,  is,  in  this  bamboo  giant,  a firm  woody 
partition  that,  without  further  preparation,  might  serve  as 
a shield  for  the  breast  of  a vigorous  man.  A child  of  three 
years  might  hide  in  one  of  the  joints!  As  is  well  known, 
the  bamboo  belongs  to  the  useful  plants  of  the  tropics;  but 
to  fully  describe  the  manifold  uses  to  which  these  tree- 
grasses — as  well  as  the  palms — are  turned  to  account  by  the 
natives  would  fill  a whole  volume. 

Next  to  the  bamboos — or,  indeed,  before  them — come 
the  palms.  Beside  the  orders  indigenous  to  the  island, 
we  find  here  a number  of  palms  that  are  natives  of  the 
mainland  of  India,  the  Sunda  Islands,  Australia,  and  trop- 
ical America — as,  for  instance,  the  Livistonia  chinensis , 
with  its  huge  crown  of  fan-shaped  leaves;  the  celebrated 
Lodoicea  from  the  Seychelles,  with  its  colossal  fans;  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


83 


Elms , or  oil-palm  of  Guinea,  with  its  long,  plume-like 
foliage;  the  famous  Mauritia  from  Brazil;  the  lofty  Oreo - 
doxci,  or  king?s-palm,  from  Havana,  etc.  Of  the  latter  I 
admired  and  sketched,  on  Teneriffe  (1866),  a splendid 
specimen,  and  was  therefore  not  a little  surprised  and  de- 
lighted to  behold  here  a whole  avenue  of  the  stately  trees. 
No  less  interesting  were  splendid  groups  of  thorny  climb- 
ing palms  or  rattans  (calamus)  with  delicate,  vibrating 
leaves;  their  slender  but  firm  and  elastic  stems  climb  to 
the  tops  of  the  highest  trees,  often  attaining  a length  of 
three  or  four  hundred  feet.  They  belong  to  the  longest 
of  all  plants. 

But  one  must  pay  a penalty  for  wandering  among  palms. 
While  rambling  through  the  tall  grass  on  the  river  bank, 
beneath  the  giant  crown  of  an  oil-palm,  my  fascinated  gaze 
following  the  windings  of  an  ambitious  rattan,  I suddenly 
felt  several  sharp  stings  on  my  leg;  an  examination  revealed 
a pair  of  diminutive  leeches  that  had  attached  themselves 
to  me,  while  half  a dozen  or  more  of  their  fellows  were 
nimbly  ascending  the  leg  of  my  boot.  This  was  my  first 
introduction  to  the  notorious  land-leech  of  Ceylon,  the 
most  annoying  of  all  the  numerous  plagues  on  this  beauti- 
ful island.  This  species  ( Hirudo  ceylonica)  belongs  to  the 
smallest,  as  well  as  the  most  disagreeable  of  the  genera. 
With  the  exception  of  the  sea-coast  and  the  higher  moun- 
tain country,  they  are  found  in  the  greatest  profusion 
everywhere  on  the  island — especially  on  the  banks  of  the 
rivers  and  in  the  damp  jungles  of  the  lowland  hills,  where 
one  cannot  take  a step  without  being  -attacked  by  them. 
They  not  only  creep  along  the  ground,  but  infest  the 
bushes  and  trees,  from  whence  they  drop  on  the  unsuspect- 
ing passer-by;  they  will  even  make  a sudden  jump  to  reach 
their  prey.  When  fully  distended  the  land-leech  is  as  large 
as  the  smaller  medicinal  leeches;  before  his  feast,  however, 
he  is  about  half  an  inch  in  length,  scarcely  thicker  than  a 
thread,  and  penetrates  the  heaviest  stocking  with  amazing 
rapidity.  Frequently  their  sting  is  immediately  felt,  and 
very  often  not.  Once,  in  an  evening  company,  1 was  made 
aware  of  their  presence  only  when  I saw  the  blood  trick- 
ling down  the  leg  of  my  white  pantaloons. 

To  prevent  an  attack  from  these  pests  a drop  of  lemon 
juice  is  sufficient,  for  which  reason  a small  lemon  is  always 


84 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


carried  in  the  pocket  when  rambling-in  the  lowlands.  In- 
stead of  this  remedy,  however,  I made  use  of  carbolic  acid, 
or  alcohol,  both  of  which  I always  carried  with  me  on  my 
collecting  tours.  The  effects  of  their  sting  are  very  differ- 
ent. Persons  with  sensitive  skins  (to  which  class  I unfor- 
tunately belong)  suffer  for  several  days  from  an  annoying 
irritation,  and  not  infrequently  the  wound  is  attended  by 
more  or  less  painful  inflammation.  As  the  leeches  prefer 
these  tender,  inflamed  parts,  the  wounds  very  frequently 
become  quite  serious.  When  the  English,  in  1815,  con- 
quered Kandy,  and  the  troops  were  obliged  for  weeks  to 
force  their  way  through  the  jungles,  many  soldiers  were 
lost  by  the  incessant  attacks  of  these  minute  leech  foes.  In 
the  regions  where  they  are  most  numerous,  the  Europeans 
are  obliged  to  wear  leech-gaiters  made  of  rubber  or  closely 
woven  cloth,  which  are  drawn  over  the  boot  and  fastened 
around  the  knee.  Always  when  starting  for  the  jungle  I 
took  the  precaution  to  smear  a streak  of  carbolic  acid 
around  the  tops  of  my  hunting  boots.  In  some  parts  of  the 
island  these  leeches,  by  their  enormous  number,  render — as 
do  the  ticks  (Ixodes)  hi  other  parts — a stay  of  any  length 
almost  impossible.  Another  diminutive  plague  in  the  gar- 
den of  Paredenia  (as  in  all  watered  regions  on  the  island) 
is  the  musquito  and  stinging  fly;  musquito  nets  for  the 
bed-chambers  are  an  absolute  necessity.  But  far  more 
dangerous  than  these  insects,  which  are  only  troublesome 
pests,  are  the  poisonous  scorpions  and  millepeds  of  which 
I secured  some  splendid  examples. 

One  of  the  most  attractive  parts  of  Paredenia  is  the  fern 
garden.  In  the  dense  shade  of  tall  trees  along  the  cool 
banks  of  a murmuring  brook  is  assembled  a company  of 
small  and  large,  delicate  and  vigorous,  herbaceous  and 
arboreous  ferns,  such  as  it  would  be  impossible  to  im- 
agine any  more  charming  and  agreeable.  The  entire 
charm  of  form  which  distinguishes  the  dainty  feathery 
foliage  of  our  native  ferns  is  here  displayed  in  an  endless 
variety  of  different  species,  from  the  simplest  to  the  most 
complex;  and  while  some  of  the  pretty  little  dwarf  ferns 
might  easily  be  confounded  with  dainty  mosses,  the  giant 
tree-ferns,  whose  slim,  black  stems  bear  a lovely  crown  of 
feathery  leaves,  attain  the  proud  height  of  the  palm. 

Like  the  ferns,  the  fern-palms,  or  Cycadece , as  well  as  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


85 


dainty  selaginella  and  lycopodia  families,  are  represented  in 
Paredenia  by  choice  collections  of  the  most  interesting 
species,  from  the  most  minute,  moss-like  forms  to  the 
robust  shrub  sorts  that  almost  remind  one  of  the  extinct 
tree-lycopodia  of  the  stone-coal  period.  Indeed,  many 
plant-groups  in  this  garden  recall  to  mind  the  fossil  flora  so 
admirably  portrayed  by  Unger  in  his  views  from  an  antidi- 
luvian  world. 

If,  in  conclusion,  but  two  more  plant  orders,  which  are 
of  peculiar  interest  to  me,  are  to  be  introduced  to  your 
notice,  then  the  first  shall  be  the  lianas,  and  the  second  the 
banyans.  Although  creeping  and  climbing  plants  are 
abundant  everywhere  on  the  island,  the  Paredenia  Garden 
contains  several  splendid  examples,  the  like  of  which  are 
rarely  found ; for  instance,  colossal  vines  of  the  Vitis,  Cissus , 
Pur'tada , Bignonia,  Ficus , etc.  Also  the  banyans,  and 
several  kindred  fig  trees  ( Ficus  galaxifera , etc.),  are  the 
finest,  most  magnificent  tree-forms  I saw  on  Ceylon. 

A very  remarkable  sight  was  presented  by  one  of  these 
ancient  banyan  trees,  whose  mighty  crown  rested  on  numer- 
ous root-columns;  it  was  almost  entirely  denuded  of  foliage, 
but  large  numbers  of  what  seemed  to  be  a monstrous  brown 
fruit  hung  from  the  bare  branches.  Imagine  my  astonish- 
ment when,  on  approaching  the  tree,  several  of  these 
“fruits”  suddenly  took  wing  and  flew  away!  They  were 
flying  foxes  ( P ter  opus ),  of  that  remarkable  group  of  fru- 
givorous  bats  which  is  confined  to  the  tropical  zone  of  the 
old  world  (Asia  and  Africa).  Several  cleverly-aimed  shots 
brought  half  a dozen  to  the  ground,  whereupon  the  rest  of 
the  flock  (several  hundred)  flew  loudly  screaming  away. 
Those  of  the  fallen  that  had  only  been  wounded  vigorously 
defended  themselves  with  their  sharp  teeth  and  claws,  and 
it  was  only  after  considerable  difficulty  that  I succeeded — 
with  the  aid  of  my  hunting  knife — in  conquering  them. 
These  “ flying  foxes”  are,  in  shape — especially  the  head — size, 
and  color  very  similar  to  the  fox.  But  the  limbs,  like  those 
of  all  other  bats,  are  connected  by  a tough  wing-membrane 
that  enables  them  to  fly  very  swiftly.  Their  motion  is  very 
different  from  that  of  our  northern  bats;  it  is  more  like  the 
flight  of  a crow.  They  feed  on  fruits,  and  are  therefore 
very  destructive.  They  are  particularly  fond  of  the  sweet 
palm  wine,  and  are  often  found  by  the  natives  in  a tipsy 


86 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


condition  in  the  sap  vessels  hanging  on  the  palms.  This 
propensity  sufficiently  explains  the  near  consanguinity 
which  the  phylo-genetic  genealogy  of  the  mammalia  estab- 
lishes between  them  and  the  apes — likewise  man! 

In  the  sorrel-hued  fur  of  the  flying  fox  I found  large 
parasitic  insects  ( Nycteribia ) of  peculiar,  spider-like  form, 
belonging  to  the  Pupipara  group.  These  insects — like  the 
fleas — are  Diptera , or  flies,  which,  in  consequence  of  parasitic 
habits,  have  ceased  to  fly,  and  through  disuse  of  their 
wings  have  eventually  become  wingless  insects.  However, 
they  can  travel  with  surprising  activity  over  the  bodies  of 
their  hosts — also  over  my  hand,  as  I found  when  I tried  to 
capture  some  of  them.  Several  particularly  nimble  fellows 
disappeared  up  my  sleeve  and  buried  their  sharp  claws  in 
my  flesh. 

That  same  day  I made  another  interesting  but  danger- 
ous zoological  acquaintance.  While  engaged,  during  a rain 
storm  in  the  afternoon,  in  imprisoning  a gigantic  black 
myriapod  in  a spirit  bottle,  a large  hooded  snake,  the 
dreaded  Cobra  di  capello  ( Naja  tripudians ),  crept  through 
the  open  garden  door  into  my  bedroom.  I had  not  noticed 
him,  although  he  was  scarcely  a foot  away  from  me,  and 
became  aware  of  his  presence  only  when  my  servant  dashed, 
excitedly  shrieking  “ Cobra!  cobra!  ’’into  the  room.  With 
the  native’s  assistance  I soon  mastered  the  poisonous  mon- 
ster (he  was  over  a metre  in  length),  and  he  now  occupies 
a spirit  bottle  in  company  with  a remarkable  snake-like 
amphibia,  Ccecilia , I found  a few  days  before. 


VII. 

Kandy. 

Among  the  few  cities  Ceylon  can  boast  Kandy,  although 
it  can  scarcely  be  called  a city,  enjoys  a distinct  and  sepa- 
rate reputation;  partly  from  its  being  the  capital  of  the 
central  province,  partly  because  it  was  once  the  residence 
of  the  native  Kandyan  kings,  and  partly  because  an  ancient 
temple  in  its  precincts  contains  the  “ sacred  tooth”  of  Bud- 
dha, one  of  the  most  celebrated  relics  of  this  religion. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


87 


In  addition  to  these  attractions  I had  read  in  Sir  Emerson 
Tennent’s  excellent  work  on  Ceylon,  a glowing  description 
of  Kandv’s  incomparably  beautiful  situation  and  envnons 
enthusiastic  praise  that  was  echoed  by  later  travelers  who, 
in  their  descriptions,  usually  imitated  Sir  Emerson.  Con- 
sequently, the  expectations  with  which  I set  out  from  1 are- 
denia  on  the  morning  of  the  6tli  of  December  for  the  tliiee 
miles  distant  Kandy  were  by  no  means  small. 

So  often  in  my  travels  I have  found  that  the  world-famed 
places,  which  it  is  the  “fashion”  to  visit,  and  whose  praise 
every  tourist  feels  it  incumbent  upon  himself  to  repeat, 
were,  in  fact,  scarcely  worth  visiting;  while  frequently  there 
would  be  in  close  juxtaposition  really  charming  neighbor- 
hoods which  were  wholly  ignored  by  the  tourist  because  they 
were  not  mentioned  in  the  “ guide-books.  This  was  again 
mv  experience  in  Ceylon  with  the  far-famed  city  of  Kandy, 
and  I shall,  without  further  preamble,  at  once  confess  that 
my  visit  here  was,  from  beginning  to  end,  a huge  disap- 

^°The  “proud  regal  city”  might  better  pose  as  an  “ unpre- 
tending village,”  whose  few  streets  contain  more  Singhalese 
earth-huts  than  European  bungalows,  and  these  dwellings 
are  not  even  divided — as  in  Colombo,  Galle,  Matui  a,  and 
other  cities  on  the  island-into  a “ white  town  or  fort, 
and  a “black  town,”  or pettah.  Two  long  parallel  streets 
are  crossed  at  right  angles  by  a few  smaller  ones;  the 
“lovely  lake”  which  lies  in  front  of  the  city,  and  which  is 
extolled  as  a peculiar  embellishment,  is  a small  artificial 
pond  of  rectangular  shape,  whose  banks  are  flanked  by 
perfectly  straight  rows  of  trees.  If,  therefore,  you  rise 
above  the  little  valley  which  contains  Kandy  and  its  lake, 
and  ascend  one  of  the  numerous  artificial  walks  to  the 
summit  of  one  of  the  surrounding  hills,  the  view  is  exces- 
sively stiff  and  artificial,  and  anything  but  picturesque.  It 
is  further  disfigured  by  a large,  lately-built  prison,  with 
high  bare  walls,  that  is  much  too  large  and  massive  for  the 
proportions  of  its  surroundings.  Nor  were  the  pa,rtly-cul- 
tivated,  partly-wooded  hills  which  encircle  the  valley,  and 
above  which  rise  several  taller  ranges,  specially  attractive, 
either  in  beauty  of  outline  or  picturesque  grouping,  ibis 
will  explain  why  the  sketch-book  I took  with  me  to  Kandy 
with  the  best  of  intentions  remained  blank;  I was  unable 


88 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


to  find  a single  point  that  was  worth  perpetuating  in  water- 
colors. 

Kandy’s  principal  beauty — to  my  taste  at  least — is  the 
lovely  garden  which  surrounds  the  modern  palace  of  the 
governor.  It  is  tastefully  laid  out  on  the  slope  of  a hill, 
and  contains,  in  addition  to  a great  many  fine  trees,  a num- 
ber of  ornamental  plants.  But  it  is  not  to  be  compared 
with  the  Paredenia  Garden.  The  palace  itself,  in  which, 
invited  by  the  governor,  I spent  a very  pleasant  evening, 
contains  but  a few  large  airy  apartments;  they  are  ele- 
gantly furnished,  and  open  on  the  veranda.  Multitudes  of 
snakes,  scorpions,  and  other  tropical  vermin  are  said  to  ren- 
der a sojourn  here  anything  but  agreeable  and  comfortable. 

The  so-called  “palace”  of  the  ancient  Kandyan  kings 
stands  on  the  banks  of  the  lake,  and  is  a low,  gloomy-look- 
ing  structure  whose  dark,  musty  interior  contains  nothing 
of  special  interest  except  the  dense  masses  of  fungi,  and 
other  cryptogams,  which  completely  cover  the  thick  damp 
walls  inside  and  out.  Near  by  is  the  “ Royal  Audience 
Hall,”  supported  by  carved  pillars;  it  is  used  at  present  as 
the  district  court-house. 

Nor  does  the  celebrated  “Buddha  Temple  of  Kandy,” 
which,  together  with  the  ancient  palace,  is  enclosed  by  a 
high  wall  and  surrounded  by  a moat,  fulfil  the  expecta- 
tions naturally  aroused  by  its  wonderful  reputation.  It  is 
of  inconsiderable  dimensions,  badly  preserved,  and  without 
any  artistic  merit  whatever.  The  primitive  wall  paintings, 
as  well  as  the  carved  ornaments  of  wood  and  ivory,  are  the 
same  as  those  in  other  Buddhist  temples.  As  Kandy  was 
not  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  a regal  residence  until  towards 
the  close  of  the  16  th  century,  and  the  palace,  as  well  as  the 
temple,  were  not  built  until  1600,  the  city  cannot  claim 
even  the  charm  of  great  antiquity.  Very  little  real  interest 
is  connected  with  the  famous  “ sacred  tooth,”  which  is  kept 
under  a silver  bell  in  an  octagon  tower  of  the  temple. 
Although  this  tooth  has,  for  more  than  two  thousand  years, 
been  devoutly  worshipped  by  many  millions  of  superstitious 
people,  and  although  it  plays  an  important  part  in  the  his- 
tory of  Ceylon,  it  is,  after  all,  but  a simple,  rudely-carved 
piece  of  ivory,  about  two  inches  long  and  one  thick.  There 
is  a “ true  Buddha  tooth”  in  several  localities,  but  this  does 
not  impair  the  sanctity  of  any  one  of  them. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


89 


In  company  with  my  two  botanical  friends,  Drs.  Trimen 
,nd  Ward,  I paid  a visit  to  “Fairyland,”  the  residence  of 
Or.  Th waites,  the  former  director  of  the  Paredenia  Botanic 
Garden.  His  enchanting  bungalow  is  quite  hidden  in  a 
ravine  among  the  mountains,  about  eight  miles  south  of 
Kandy,  and  is  surrounded  by  coffee  plantations. 

Dr.  Thwaites  is  the  meritorious  author  of  a work  on  the 
flora  of  Ceylon  that  appeared  in  London  (1864)  under  the 
title  of  Enumevatio  Plant ctvum  Zeylanica.  In  it  he  describes 
upward  of  three  thousand  phamogamic  plants  indigenous 
to  the  island,  one  thirtieth  part  of  all  the  plants  then 
known  on  the  globe.  Since  then,  however,  many  new  ones 
have  been  discovered,  and,  according  to  the  estimate  of  Dr. 
Gardner,  there  are  in  Ceylon  nearly  5000  species,  a considei- 
ably  larger  number  than  all  Germany  can  produce.  The 
Flora  of  Ceylon  which  I had  brought  with  me,  formerly 
belonged  to  a German  botanist  named  Nietner.  He  came 
to  Ceylon  a young  gardener,  had  by  thrift  and  industry 
become  the  owner  of  a valuable  coffee  plantation,  and  had, 
for  a quarter  of  a century,  taken  an  active  interest  in  the 
natural  history  of  the  island,  and  discovered  a numbei  of 
new  insects.  He  died,  unfortunately,  before  he  could  le- 
turn  to  his  native  land.  His  widow,  who  lives  in  Potsdam, 
and  who,  before  I sailed  for  India,  gave  me  some  valuable 
information  and  advice,  presented  me  with  several  of  her 
husband’s  books,  among  them  a copy  of  Dr.  Thwaites’s 
Flora  that  had  been  presented  to  Mr.  Nietner  by  the  author 
himself.  The  worthy  old  gentleman  was  greatly  pleased 
when  I showed  him  the  book.  It  was  doubtless  the  first 
copy  of  his  work  that  had  been  carried  from  Ceylon  to 
Europe  by  a botanist  and  back  again  by  a zoologist. 


VIII. 

The  Gaele-Colombo  Eoad. 

My  first  two  weeks  in  Ceylon  passed  in  continual  sight- 
seeing and  wonderment  like  a dream. 

In  Colombo  I had  become  acquainted  with  the  most  im- 
portant characteristics  of  the  Singhalese  human  and  natural 
worlds,  had  admired  in  Paredenia  the  astounding  produc- 


90 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


tiye  power  of  the  tropical  flora.  It  was  now  time  to  think 
of  the  scientific  motive  of  my  journey,  the  investigation  of 
the  multiform  and,  to  some  extent,  unknown  Indian  ma- 
rine animals. 

I was  particularly  anxious  to  resume,  on  the  shores  of 
Ceylon,  the  study  of  those  animal  classes  in  which  I have 
been  interested  for  a number  of  years,  such  as  mollusks, 
radiolarians,  sponges,  corals,  medusae,  and  siphonophora, 
for  I expected  to  find  here  entirely  new  forms,  developed 
under  the  influence  of  the  tropical  sun  and  the  Indian  con- 
ditions of  life. 

The  conditions  under  which  these  marine  animals  attain 
their  highest  development  are  manifold  and  peculiar;  and 
it  is  by  no  means  immaterial  what  part  of  the  coast  we  se- 
lect for  their  investigation.  The  perfect  development  of 
the  marine  fauna  depends  not  only  on  the  quality  of  the 
sea-water — its  saltness,  purity,  temperature,  current,  and 
depth,  but  also  (and  frequently  to  a considerable  extent) 
on  the  configuration  of  the  contiguous  shore,  whether 
it  be  rocky  or  sandy,  calcareous  or  slaty,  whether  fer- 
tile or  barren.  Again,  the  existence  of  certain  groups  is 
favored,  or  hindered,  by  the  quantity  of  fresh  water  that 
flows  into  the  ocean,  and  by  the  force  of  the  surf  on  the 
shore.  For  the  development  of  those  divisions  of  swimming 
animals  in  which  I am  specially  interested — radiolarians, 
medusae,  and  siphonophera — the  most  favorable  regions 
are  the  deep  land-locked  bays  with  clear,  still  water,  shel- 
tered by  rocky  projections,  undisturbed  by  large  volumes 
of  fresh  water,  and  supplied  with  currents  that  lead  the 
pelagic  fauna  into  them.  To  favorable  conditions  like 
these  the  harbor  of  Messina,  the  Gulf  of  Naples,  and  Bay 
of  Villafranca,  in  the  Mediterranean,  owe  the  reputation 
they  have  won  in  the  last  decade  among  zoologists. 

A glance  at  the  map  of  India  will  show  that  such  shel- 
tered bays  are  of  rarer  occurrence  along  its  coast  than  along 
the  dented  shores  of  our  matchless  Mediterranean.  On  the 
coast  of  Ceylon  there  are  but  three  such  bays:  the  pictur- 
esque harbors  of  Galle  and  Belligam  on  the  south-west 
coast;  and  the  celebrated  island-adorned  Gulf  of  Trin- 
comalie  on  the  north-west  coast.  The  latter  was  declared 
by  Nelson  one  of  the  finest  harbors  in  the  world.  The 
English  Government,  which  is  quick  to  see  and  improve  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


91 


natural  advantages  of  her  possessions,  lost  no  time  after  the 
acquisition  of  Ceylon  in  fortifying  Trincomalie.  The 
Dutch  had  already  erected  forts  on  each  of  the  two  tongues 
of  land  projecting  into  the  harbor:  Tort  Frederick  on  the 
northernmost,  and  Fort  Ostenburg  on  the  southern.  Ihese 
were  enlarged  and  strengthened  by  the  English,  and  many 
other  improvements  made  in  the  little  town.  But  much 
still  remains  to  be  done,  especially  when  it  is  remembered 
that  Trincomalie  is  the  most  important  harboi  of  defence 
in  all  British  India.  In  the  struggle  for  the  possession  of 
India,  in  which  the  British  empire  will,  sooner  or  later, 
have  to  participate,  this  fortified  harbor  will,  as  may  easily 
be  seen,  play  an  important  part. 

The  harbor  of  Trincomalie,  distinguished  not  only  fonts 
size  and  depth,  but  for  its  picturesque  shores  and  numer- 
ous wooded  islands  which  guard  its  entrance,  leads  one 
from  the  very  first  to  expect  a peculiarly  rich  development 
of  marine  animal  life.  And,  indeed,  many  groups  of  sea- 
creatures,  particularly  those  that  frequent  a rocky  bottom 
(mollusks  and  echinoderms)  here  seem  to  unfold  a larger 
number  of  different  sorts  than  most  points  along  the  coast. 
It  is  specially  famous  for  its  wealth  of  conchylia:  beauti- 
fully tinted  snails,  and  delicately  fashioned  mussels.  Several 
zoologists  who  have  visited  Trincomalie  have  discovered 
some  entirely  new  animal  forms.  It  was,  therefore,  natural 
that  I should  turn  my  attention  to  this  point  m preference 
to  all  others,  and  conclude  to  fish  at  least  a month  among 
its  productive  waters.  But,  when  it  came  to  carrying  out 
my  plans,  insurmountable  difficulties  presented  themselves. 
Communication  between  Trincomalie  and  the  rest  of  the 
larger  towns  on  the  island  is  still  very  imperfect,  and  leaves 
much  to  be  desired,  by  water  as  wed  as  by  land.  As  yet, 
nothing  has  been  done  toward  the  projected  railway  between 
Kandy  and  Trincomalie.  As  the  former  city  lies  almost 
midway  between  the  west  and  east  coasts,  and  has  foi  yeais 
been  connected  by  rail  with  Colombo,  the  continuation  o 
the  line  to  the  east  coast  would  seem  almost  a necessity, 
especially  when  we  consider  the  strategic  importance  ot 
Trincomalie  and  the  superiority  of  her  harbor,  which,  m a 
commercial  sense,  is  but  little  used.  At  present  the  jour- 
ney from  Kandy  to  Trincomalie,  is  over  a wretched  road 
that  for  days  leads  through  uninhabited  forests.  At  the 


92 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


time  I thought  of  making  the  journey,  in  the  beginning  of 
December,  the  condition  of  the  road  was  particularly  unin- 
viting ; the  heavy  rains  of  the  south-west  monsoon  had 
swept  away  several  bridges,  and  rendered  long  stretches  of 
the  road  almost  impassable.  I was  afraid  the  bullock  carts 
on  which  my  sixteen  chests  of  instruments,  etc.,  would 
have  to  be  transported  to  Trincomalie,  would  either  stick 
fast  in  the  mud,  or  reach  their  destination  under  great 
difficulties  in  a damaged  condition.  The  prospects  by  sea 
were  no  brighter.  The  little  government  coast-steamer, 
the  Serendib , which  makes  semi-monthly  trips  around 
the  island,  forms  the  only  regular  and  direct  communica- 
tion between  the  principal  points  on  the  coast;  the  sailing 
vessels  plying  between  these  ports  are  neither  safe  nor  re- 
liable. As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  just  at  the  time  I wanted 
to  engage  passage  on  the  Serendib  for  Trincomalie  she 
was  damaged  in  a storm,  and  towed  to  Bombay  for  repairs. 
Consequently  I was  forced  to  postpone  my  visit,  and  later, 
further  hindrances  compelled  me,  much  to  my  regret,  to 
renounce  the  plan  altogether. 

There  was  now  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  to  seek  the 
south-west  coast,  and  setup  my  zoological  laboratory  either 
at  Galle  or  Belligam.  Galle,  or  Point  de  Galle,  the  most 
prominent  seaport  on  the  island,  which,  until  within  a few 
years,  was  the  principal  station  for  all  the  Indian  vessels, 
and  the  usual  place  of  debarkation  for  European  travelers, 
offered  me  the  advantages  of  European  civilization,  facili- 
ties for  procuring  what  I might  require,  and  constant  in- 
tercourse with  cultured  English  residents.  I might  there 
count  to  a certainty  on  fishing  in  a large,  beautiful  harbor 
from  European  boats,  on  finding  among  the  celebrated 
coral  banks  a wealth  of  interesting  sea  animals,  and  on 
examining  and  preserving  them  with  proportionate  ease  and 
convenience.  There  were  still  other  advantages:  other  zo- 
ologists had  visited  Galle  before  me,  and  by  their  discoveries 
had  facilitated  my  acquaintance  with  its  locality  and  animal 
life.  BansonnePs  handsome  book  in  particular,  contains  a 
number  of  important  observations  on  the  Galle  coral  banks. 
Very  different  conditions  awaited  me  at  Belligam.  True,  the 
lovely  sheltered  bay  at  this  place,  fifteen  miles  south  of 
Galle  (half  way  between  the  latter  port  and  Matura,  the 
most  southerly  point  of  the  island),  could  boast  of  coral 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


93 


banks  and  other  topographical  and  zoological  conditions 
very  similar  to  those  of  Galle,  and  it  had  besides,  owing  to 
its  being  rarely  visited  or  explored,  the  great  charm  of 
novelty,  and  of  being  comparatively  unknown.  From  what 
I had  heard,  Belli  gam  surpassed  Galle  in  beauty  of  scenery 
and  exuberant  vegetation.  But  what  charmed  me  even 
more  than  this  was,  that  in  the  former  place  I might  for 
several  months  throw  off  the  conventionalities  and  unnat- 
uralness of  our  civilized  world,  and,  in  the  midst  of  tropi- 
cal nature’s  wanton  luxuriance,  for  once  yield  myself  to  the 
full  enjoyment  of  its  beauties.  Here,  surrounded  by  a 
simple,  uncultured  people,  I might  hope  to  gain  an  idea  of 
the  imaginary  paradisal  condition  of  our  primitive  ances- 
tors. For  Belligam  is  in  reality  nothing  but  a large, 
purely  Ceylonese  village,  inhabited  by  fishermen,  shepherds, 
and  tillers  of  the  soil;  its  four  thousand  chocolate-huecl 
inhabitants,  among  whom  there  is  not  a single  European, 
live  partly  along  the  picturesque  shores  of  the  bay,  and 
partly  on  a lovely  level  stretch  of  cocoa-forest  that  verges 
on  the  shore.  In  Belligam’s  secluded  rest-house  I might 
hope  to  accomplish  more  work,  and  with  more  coherence 
and  dispatch  than  in  sociable  Galle,  surrounded  by  many 
kindly-disposed  friends  and  inquisitive  acquaintances. 

After  maturely  considering  its  advantages  and  disadvan- 
tages, I at  last  decided  in  favor  of  Belligam,  and  had  no 
reason  afterwards  to  regret  my  choice.  The  six  most  fruit- 
ful weeks  I spent  there  will  ever  remain  a memorable 
period;  they  form  one  of  the  choicest  flower-groups  in  the 
garland  of  my  Indian  reminiscences.  I might  have  found 
Galle  more  convenient  for  my  special  zoological  study,  but, 
for  a general  view  of  nature  and  of  nature’s  people  Belli- 
gam was  the  better  place. 

Naturally  there  were  numerous  preparations  to  be  made 
for  a protracted  sojourn  in  this  isolated  fishing-village.  As 
lodgings  were  to  be  had  only  in  the  government  rest-house, 
and  the  traveler’s  stay  in  these  substitutes  for  hotels  is  re- 
stricted to  three  days,  it  was  necessary  to  obtain  permission 
to  occupy  the  rest-house  at  Belligam  for  several  months. 
The  governor  of  Ceylon,  Sir  James  Longdon,  to  whom  I 
brought  letters  from  the  English  Government  (and  to 
whom  I am  indebted  for  many  courtesies),  furnished  me 
with  letters  to  the  president  of  the  south  province.  In  them 


94 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


not  only  the  desired  permission  was  granted,  but  several 
government  officials  were  ordered  to  render  me  any  service 
I might  require.  With  the  exemplary  order  and  discipline 
which  attends  the  governmental  mechanism  in  the  English 
colonies,  as  well  as  in  the  mother-country,  an  official  docu- 
ment like  this  is  at  times  an  indispensable  talisman.  Es- 
pecially is  this  the  case  in  Ceylon,  as  the  island  is  entirely 
independent  of  the  Indian  Government,  and  under  the  im- 
mediate jurisdiction  of  the  colonial  administration  in  Lon- 
don; the  governor  of  the  island  is  a sort  of  absolute  mon- 
arch, and  pays  very  little  heed  to  the  deliberations  of  his 
legislative  council.  To  this  despotic  form  of  government, 
which  is  extremely  distasteful  to  the  constitutional  English- 
man, are  attributed  most  of  the  defects  attendant  upon  the 
administration  of  the  beautiful  island.  One  of  the  greatest 
of  these  is  that  the  governor’s  term  of  office  (four  years)  is 
entirely  too  short,  scarcely  long  enough  for  him  to  become 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  his  domain.  With  a popula- 
tion of  two  millions  and  a half,  among  whom  are  only  three 
thousand  Europeans,  the  concentration  of  administrative 
power  in  one  hand  seems  to  be  the  most  advantageous  form 
of  government.  At  all  events,  upon  closer  examination  of 
the  matter,  I came  to  the  conclusion  that  here,  as  in  most 
of  her  colonies,  England,  with  her  usual  practical  sense, 
had  selected  what  was  best,  and  that  the  government  of 
Ceylon  was  conducted  with  more  circumspection  and  better 
judgment  than  would  be  the  case  were  the  island  under  the 
jurisdiction  of  almost  any  other  civilized  nation. 

After  providing  myself  with  more  introductory  letters 
from  Galle,  and  purchasing  the  necessary  articles  for  a 
longer  sojourn  in  Belligam,  I loaded  my  sixteen  chests  on 
a large,  two-wheeled  bullock  cart  that  was  to  carry  them 
inside  of  eight  days  to  Galle.  These  bullock  carts  are  the 
only  means  for  transporting  freight  on  the  public  roads  in 
Ceylon.  The  largest  carts  will  carry  on  their  two  powerful 
wheels  a load  of  forty  hundred  weight,  and  are  drawn  by 
four  strong  humped  oxen  or  zebus  of  the  largest  species. 
The  yoke  is  simply  laid  across  the  necks  of  the  animals  in 
front  of  the  hump;  the  cart  is  covered  by  a barrel-shaped 
roof  of  plaited  cocoa  leaves  that  protects  the  freight  in  the 
body  of  the  vehicle  from  the  deluging  rain;  mats  of  the 
same  material  serve  as  curtains  in  front  and  at  the  back. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


95 


The  load  is  carefully  adjusted  oyer  the  wheels  so  that  the 
centre  of  gravity  rests  directly  oyer  the  axle.  The  driver 
sits  in  front  on  the  pole  immediately  behind  the  bullocks, 
or  else  he  walks  between  them,  and  by  incessant  cries,  or 
tugging  at  their  tails,  urges  the  poor  beasts  into  a more 
rapid  gait.  Hundreds  of  such  carts,  some  with  two,  some 
with  four  zebus,  are  continually  seen  on  all  the  public  roads. 
Among  them  may  occasionally  be  seen  the  swifter  little 
“ oxen-drosky  ” or  “bullock-bandy,”  a lighter  two-wheeled 
vehicle  of  similar  build,  drawn  by  a pretty,  swift-footed 
zebu. 

On  the  9th  of  December  I took  my  departure  from  hos- 
pitable Whist  Bungalow,  accompanied  by  the  good  wishes 
and  judicious  counsels  of  my  amiable  hosts.  The  journey 
from  Colombo  to  G-alle  is  a favorite  theme  in  all  the  de- 
scriptions of  Ceylon  travel.  Until  within  a few  years,  all 
the  mail  steamers  landed  first  at  G-alle,  from  whence  the 
passengers  were  transported  overland  to  Colombo;  conse- 
quently their  first  impressions  of  the  island’s  natural  beauty 
were  received  while  traveling  along  this  road,  which  is,  in 
truth,  peculiarly  rich  in  natural  attractions.  The  cocoa- 
forest,  with  its  endless  succession  of  charming  pictures,  ex- 
tends along  the  entire  south-west  coast.  The  road  winds, 
now  through  the  shadowy  forest,  now  verges  on  the  sands, 
or  the  rocks  overhanging  the  sea,  now  pierces  dense  jun- 
gles, or  crosses  the  picturesque  bridges  which  span  the 
numberless  streams  of  the  west  coast.  Formerly  the  entire 
journey  from  Colombo  to  Galle  was  made  in  wagons,  but  a 
railway  now  takes  the  place  of  the  old  road  for  about 
one  third  the  distance.  It  also  runs  close  to  the  shore, 
traverses  the  palm-grove  in  almost  a direct  line,  and  termi- 
nates at  Caltura.  The  continuation  of  the  railway  from 
this  point  to  Galle,  which  would  be  of  incalculable  advan- 
tage to  the  latter  city,  is  not  sanctioned  by  the  govern- 
ment lest  Galle’s  importance  might  outrival  that  of  Co- 
lombo, the  capital.  As  intercourse  between  the  two  cities 
is  very  active,  and  constantly  increasing,  the  commercial 
success  of  a railway  cannot  be  doubted.  Unfortunately  the 
disparaging  wish  to  elevate  Colombo  to  the  detriment  of 
Galle  prompts  the  government  to  steadily  refuse  its  conces- 
sion, notwithstanding  the  fact  that  a company  has  proved 
its  financial  ability  to  complete  the  line.  This  is  the  cause 


96 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


of  general  complaint  all  along  the  Galle-Colombo  road.  The 
traveler  is  compelled  either  to  hire  a very  expensive  private 
conveyance,  or  to  trust  himself  to  the  mail-coach,  which 
makes  daily  trips  between  Galle  and  Caltura.  This  is  also  a 
very  expensive  mode  of  travel,  and  anything  but  agreeable. 

The  mail-coach  bears  the  imposing  title  of  “Royal mail- 
coach,' ” and  proudly  displays  on  its  doors  the  English  coat- 
of-arms,  “ Honi  soit  qui  mal  y pense!” — an  admonition 
which,  considering  the  condition  of  the  rickety  vehicle, 
and  the  tortured  horses  furnishing  the  motive-power, 
sounds  like  pure  irony.  The  coach,  which  is  scarcely  large 
enough  to  comfortably  accommodate  six  passengers,  is  fre- 
quently crowded  with  twice  that  number,  each  of  the  two 
seats  inside  as  well  as  the  one  behind  occupied  by  three 
persons,  although  there  is  hardly  room  for  two.  The  most 
desirable  places  are  in  front  beside  the  driver.  Here  one 
may  enjoy  a view  of  the  surrounding  country,  and  at  the 
same  time  escape  the  anything  but  agreeable  odors  which 
emanate  from  the  perspiring,  cocoa-oiled  Singhalese  pas- 
sengers crowded  inside.  The  fare  for  the  five  hours’  jour- 
ney is,  for  each  “white”  (European)  passenger,  fifteen 
rupees;  the  dusky  native  pays  only  half  as  much.  . 

The  most  disagreeable  feature  of  this  coach  ride,  as  with 
all  similar  mail-coach  journeys  in  Ceylon,  is  the  horrible 
torture  inflicted  on  the  wretched  horses.  The  worthy 
Singhalese  seem  to  be  entirely  ignorant  of  the  fact  that 
driving  a horse  is  an  art  which  has  to  be  acquired,  and  that 
horses  must  be  trained,  or  “adapted”  to  the  work  required 
of  them.  They  seem,  on  the  contrary,  to  think  that  the 
poor  beasts  are  gifted  with  an  intuitive  or  hereditary  knowl- 
edge of  how  to  draw  a wagon,  for,  without  previous  train- 
ing, they  imprison  the  frightened  creatures  in  clumsy  har- 
ness, and  then  torture  them  in  various  ways,  until  in  sheer 
desperation  they  gallop  off.  When  neither  urgent  cries 
nor  violent  blows  suffice  to  make  them  go,  various  devices 
of  torture  are  resorted  to:  the  sensitive  nostrils  are  torn 
apart  with  iron  hooks;  the  tongue  is  seized  with  a pair  of 
tongs  and  almost  pulled  from  the  throat;  the  ears  are  twisted 
around  sticks  until  you  think  they  will  be  torn  from  their 
sockets;  ropes  are  fastened  to  the  fore  legs,  and  pulled  by 
half  a dozen  yelping  lads,  while  as  many  more  tug  at  the 
creature’s  tail,  or  beat  his  legs  with  clubs.  If  this  is  not 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


97 


sufficient  to  reduce  the  animal  to  a state  of  mad  despera- 
tion, a lighted  torch  is  held  under  his  belly.  In  short,  all 
the  devices  resorted  to  by  the  holy*  Inquisition  to  convert 
the  unbelieving  heretic  are  here  practised  on  these  poor 
dumb  brutes.  Often,  when  compelled  to  witness  such 
atrocious  cruelty,  utterly  powerless  to  prevent  it,  I have 
wondered  what  heinous  crimes  the  wretched  creatures 
were  expiating.  Who  can  tell  but  what  kindred  im- 
pressions pervaded  the  crania  of  our  dusky  coachman  and 
groom?  They  doubtless  are  firm  believers  in  Siva  and 
the  transmigration  of  souls,  and  imagined  that  by  tor- 
turing the  mail-coach  horses,  they  avenged  the  cruelties 
practised  on  their  ancestors  by  heartless  princes  and  con- 
querors. Either  this  or  a total  want  of  sympathy — per- 
haps too  he  shares  the  peculiar  belief  entertained  by  many 
Europeans  that  animals  have  no  feeling — actuates  the 
Singhalese,  who  considers  the  torture  of  dumb  beasts  an 
amusement.  In  the  villages  along  the  road,  where  the 
horses  are  changed,  the  arrival  of  the  mail-coach  is  the 
most  important  event  of  the  day,  and  all  the  inhabitants 
assemble,  partly  to  inspect  and  criticise  the  passengers, 
partly  to  enjoy  the  exciting  spectacle  of  changing  horses, 
and  to  take  active  part  in  torturing  the  freshly-harnessed 
beasts.  When  these  are  rendered  desperate,  they  dash  for- 
ward in  a mad  gallop  that  is  kept  up  until  failing  breath 
reduces  them  to  a more  moderate  pace.  Covered  with 
sweat, with  foaming  lips  and  quivering  limbs,  they  arrive  at 
the  next  station,  where  they  are  relieved  for  a time  by 
their  companions  in  misery.  For  the  traveler  who  trusts 
himself  to  the  rickety  coach,  this  mode  of  travel  is  neither 
pleasant  nor  free  from  danger.  The  coach  is  frequently 
overturned  and  broken;  sometimes  the  horses  take  it  into 
their  heads  to  dash  across  the  fields,  or  back  into  banana 
thickets  and  ditches,  for  which  reason  I was  prepared  at 
any  moment  to  leap  from  my  elevated  seat  beside  the 
driver.  It  is  difficult  to  understand  why  the  English  Gov- 
ernment, usually  so  rigid  in  maintaining  order  and  disci- 
pline, has  not  long  ago  prohibited  such  cruelty  to  animals, 
and  established  rules  for  protecting  the  poor  horses  of  her 
own  “ Eoyal  mail-coach. ” 

Great  Buddha,  thou  that  didst  seek  to  mitigate  all 
suffering,  what  a blunder  hast  thou  committed!  What  a 


98 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


benefit  to  man  and  beast  would  it  have  been  hadst  thou, 
instead  of  foolishly  interdicting  the  taking  of  life,  forbid- 
den torture! 

While  the  former  command  is  strictly  obeyed  by  the 
worshipper  of  Buddha,  he  never  fails  to  rejoice  when  the 
naturalist  shoots  the  apes  and  flying  foxes  that  steal  his 
bananas  and  mangoes;  or  when  the  planter  kills  the  ele- 
phant that  tramples  down  his  rice  fields,  the  leopard  that 
destroys  his  goats,  and  the  marten  that  robs  his  chicken- 
yard.  As  a rule  the  Singhalese  repulse  the  idea  of  taking 
life,  and  are  very  careful  not  to  kill  an  animal  outright. 
For  this  reason  most  of  the  fishermen  are  Roman  Catholics; 
they  have  renounced  the  faith  of  Buddha  in  order  that 
they  may  pursue  their  calling,  which  involves  the  killing 
of  fish. 

The  stubborn  insubordination  shown  by  the  Indian 
horses  towards  their  torturers,  and  their  inclination  to  make 
unexpected  leaps  from  the  road,  requires  considerable 
dexterity  on  the  part  of  the  coachman.  His  assistant  like- 
wise must  be  constantly  on  his  guard.  The  perseverance 
and  agility  of  the  latter  is  really  wonderful.  Entirely 
naked,  with  the  exception  of  a cloth  around  his  loins,  a 
white  turban  on  his  head,  and  a post-horn  around  his  neck, 
the  swarthy  fellow  (a  Tamil)  will  run  for  a long  distance 
beside  the  flying  coach,  tugging  now  at  the  right,  now  at 
the  left  rein;  occasionally  swinging  himself  to  the  foot- 
board when  the  horses  are  going  at  their  greatest  speed. 
At  the  approach  of  another  wagon  from  the  opposite  direc- 
tion, or  at  a sudden  turn  in  the  road,  he  quickly  seizes  the 
horses’  heads  and  forces  them  to  the  proper  side.  In  cross- 
ing the  long  wooden  bridges  that  span  the  wider  streams, 
he  checks  the  wild  career  of  his  steeds,  and  cautiously  leads 
them  over  the  loose,  rattling  planks.  If  a child — as  fre- 
quently happens — runs  into  the  road,  or  an  old  woman  ob- 
stinately disputes  the  right  of  way  with  the  coach,  they  are 
unceremoniously  pushed  aside  by  the  Tamil  groom.  In 
short,  he  is  constantly  on  the  alert,  ready  for  any  emer- 
gency. Although  the  character  of  the  landscape  along  the 
entire  stretch  of  seventy  miles  between  Colombo  and  Galle 
is  the  same,  yet  the  enchanted  eye  of  the  traveler  never 
wearies.  The  never-ending  charm  of  the  cocoa-groves,  the 
inexhaustible  variety  of  palm-groups,  with  their  alternating 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


99 


pictures  of  human  and  animal  life,  prevent  his  interest 
from  flagging.  The  piercing  heat  of  the  tropical  sun  rarely 
becomes  oppressive,  owing  to  the  shade  of  the  groves  among 
which  he  rides  and  the  cool  breeze  from  the  ocean.  True, 
the  feathery  foliage  of  the  palms  does  not  cast  the  dense 
refreshing  shade  of  our  northern  woods,  for  the  sun’s  rays 
easily  penetrate  the  plumed  crowns;  but  luxuriant  vines 
of  all  sorts  entwine  the  slender  stems,  and  hang  in  festoons 
from  tree  to  tree,  or  swing  like  graceful  chandeliers  from 
their  branches. 

Many  of  the  climbers  are  adorned  with  masses  of  exqui- 
site bloom,  such  as  flaming  lilies,  azure-hued  thunbergias, 
rose-colored  bougainvilleas,  and  the  gorgeous  butterfly 
blossoms  of  various  papilionaceous  creepers.  Among  the 
palms — which  of  course  predominate — are  numerous  other 
trees,  the  noble  mango,  and  the  lofty  bread-fruit  with  its 
ponderous  crown  of  dark  green  leaves.  The  slim  column 
of  the  graceful  papaya  ( Carica  papaya)  is  beautifully 
veined,  and  crowned  by  a diadem  of  spreading  palmate 
leaves.  Different  varieties  of  jasmine,  orange,  and  lemon 
shrubs  are  literally  covered  with  fragrant  white  blossoms. 
Among  them  nestle  the  picturesque  white  or  brown  huts, 
and  the  traveler  might  easily  imagine  himself  riding 
through  a long  continuous  village  of  palm  gardens,  were  it 
not  for  an  occasional  stretch  of  denser  wroods,  or  for  the 
rural  bazaar  which,  with  its  collection  of  huts,  betrays  the 
village  proper. 

Sometimes  the  road  for  a long  distance  verges  upon  the 
sea-shore,  where  tracts  of  yellow  yielding  sand  alternate 
with  rocky  hillocks;  the  latter  are  clothed  with  grotesque 
pandanus  shrubs,  or  screw-palms.  The  pandanus  {Pan- 
dames  odoratissimus)  belongs  to  the  most  singular  char- 
acter plants  of  the  tropics.  It  is  closely  allied  to  the 
palms,  and  is  also  called  screw-palm,  or,  more  improp- 
erly, screw^-pine.  The  low  cylindrical  stem,  which 
grows  from  twenty  to  forty  feet  high,  is  twisted,  and 
branched  like  a candelabrum;  at  the  extremity  of  every 
branch  grows  a thick  tuft  of  large  sword-shaped  leaves 
similar  to  those  of  the  dracaena  and  the  yucca.  Some  of 
the  leaves  are  a light  green,  others  a much  darker  hue; 
they  are  gracefully  twisted,  and  their  spiral  arrangement 
around  the  stem  gives  it  the  appearance  of  a perfectly  reg- 


'INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


100 

i 

ular  screw.  From  the  base  of  every  tuft  hangs  a cluster 
of  white,  deliciously  fragrant  flowers,  or  a large  red  fruit 
like  the  anana.  But  the  plant’s  most  remarkable  feature 
is  the  slender  adventitious  roots,  which  give  it  the  appear- 
ance of  walking  on  stilts.  A clump  of  pandanus  trees  offers 
a fantastic  sight  as  the  stems  rise  on  their  stilts  above  the 
lower  shrubbery,  or  stalk  about  over  the  rocks  along  the 
shore. 

The  white  or  yellow  sand  of  the  beach,  which  is  diversi- 
fied by  numerous  dark,  rocky  projections,  is  animated  by 
multitudes  of  nimble  little  sand  crabs,  whose  fleetness  has 
won  for  them  the  classic  title  of  Ocypode.  Also  numerous 
hermit-crabs  ( Pagurus ) deliberately  wander  among  their 
swift-footed  cousins,  dragging  after  them  the  snail-houses 
in  which  they  have  hidden  their  soft,  sensitive  hinder-parts. 
Here  and  there  are  sand-pipers,  herons,  plovers,  and  other 
shore  birds  busily  engaged  in  catching  fish  in  successful 
competition  with  the  Singhalese  fishermen.  The  latter 
pursue  their  calling  in  groups  or  singly;  if  in  companies, 
they  row  out  in  several  canoes,  and  together  drag  a large 
net  towards  tlie  shore.  The  solitary  fisherman  prefers  to 
snatch  his  prey  from  the  yeasty  surf,  and  an  interesting 
spectacle  is  afforded  by  the  naked  brown  forms,  protected 
only  by  broad-brimmed  straw  hats,  dashing  fearlessly  with 
their  hand-nets  into  the  foaming  breakers.  The  refreshing 
bath  seems  to  delight  them  as  much  as  it  does  their  off- 
spring, who  play  in  swarms  along  the  beach,  and,  at  the  age 
of  six  or  eight,  are  masters  of  the  noble  art  of  swimming. 

Like  a binding  of  lovely  satin  ribbon  the  white  or  golden 
sands  stretch  for  miles  along  the  deeply  dented  coast,  sepa- 
rating the  deep  blue  of  the  ocean  from  the  pale  green  of  the 
cocoa-forest.  The  beauty  of  the  shore  is  enhanced  by  the 
slender  palms  that  incline  their  feathered  crests  towards 
the  water  as  if  eager  to  drink  in  deep  draughts  of  the  in- 
vigorating breeze  and  radiant  sunshine.  The  ground  at 
their  feet  is  profusely  decorated  with  the  most  beautiful 
strand-flowers,  among  which  three  species  are  particularly 
noticeable:  the  goat’s-foot  ( Ipomeapes  capri ),  with  its  wealth 
of  crimson  blossoms;  an  exquisite  rose-colored  balsam 
( Impatiens ),  and  the  imposing  trumpet-lily  ( Pancratium 
ceylonicum) ; the  stately  white  flowers  of  the  latter,  with 
their  narrow  overhanging  petals,  grow  in  clusters  on  a 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


101 


slender  stem  six  or  eight  feet  high.  The  huge  leaves  of  the 
calla  also  furnish  adornment  for  the  wayside.  When  the 
rays  of  the  sun  become  intolerable,  or  a sudden  shower 
overtakes  him,  the  Singhalese  merely  plucks  a giant  cala- 
dium  leaf  that  protects  him  more  effectively  than  would  a 
cotton  or  silk  umbrella,  and  is,  with  its  delicate  traceries, 
certainly  more  ornamental.  Thus,  in  this  sunlit  Eden,  even 
parasols  may  be  had  for  the  plucking,  or,  better  still, 
“ entout  cas ,”  for  the  caladium  leaf  answers  the  double 
purpose  of  umbrella  and  sunshade. 

Among  the  many  attractions  of  this  beautiful  G-alle-Co- 
lombo  road,  are  the  numerous  deltas  which  interrupt  the 
cocoa-forest,  and  the  extensive  lagoons  that  connect  the 
rivers,  especially  of  the  northern  part  of  the  coast  (between 
Colombo  and  Caltura).  The  former  sovereigns  of  the  isl- 
and, the  Dutch,  were  so  delighted  with  these  natural 
water-ways,  which  reminded  them  of  their  native  country, 
that  they  established  a regular  system  of  canals,  and  entirely 
neglected  the  roads  by  land.  Like  the  well-known  “ Treck- 
schuiten  ” of  the  Netherlands,  numerous  freight-boats 
then  plied  the  waters  of  the  coast  lagoons,  and  transacted 
the  greater  part  of  the  commercial  business.  Since  the 
construction  of  excellent  roads  by  the  English,  these  lagoons 
are  rarely  used.  However,  with  the  dense  groves  of  bam- 
boo and  palm  fringing  their  banks,  with  the  charming 
little  islands  and  rock-groups  dotting  their  mirror-like 
surface,  they  offer  to  the  traveler  hastening  by  a wealth 
of  enchanting  pictures,  especially  there,  where,  above  the 
dark  green  forest  mass,  are  arrayed  hosts  of  slender  cocoa- 
palms — as  Humboldt  aptly  expresses  it,  “ a forest  above 
the  forest.  ” A fitting  background  is  formed  by  the  ranges 
of  blue  hills  in  the  distance;  here  and  there  loom  the  taller 
summits  of  the  highland  mountains,  among  them  the  ever 
present,  ever  conspicuous  Peak  of  Adam. 

The  smiling  landscape  assumes  a more  serious  aspect 
where  the  larger  streams  debouch  on  the  sea.  Here,  the 
sombre  mangrove  is  the  most  salient  feature.  The  shore 
is  densely  fringed  with  these  trees,  their  overarching  roots 
forming  impenetrable  thickets  which  were  formerly  inhab- 
ited by  crocodiles,  but  the  steady  march  of  civilization  has 
driven  them  to  the  upper  portions  of  the  rivers.  The  larg- 
est of  these  rivers  is  the  Kalu-ganga  (black  river),  which. 


102 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


for  miles  from  its  mouth,  is  as  wide  as  the  Rhine  at  Co* 
logne.  Caltura,  the  terminus  of  the  railway,  is  situated  at 
its  mouth.  At  the  southern  extremity  of  Caltura  a mag- 
nificent banyan  tree  spans  the  road  like  a triumphal  arch. 
This  gigantic  fig-tree  has  sent  out  its  powerful  air-roots, 
which  have  taken  root  in  the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  thus 
forming,  with  the  parent  stem,  a natural  arch  that  is  all 
the  more  attractive  from  its  parasitic  adornments — ferns, 
orchids,  and  creepers  of  all  sorts,  that  twine  among  the 
branches  with  wanton  luxuriance. 

During  a later  visit  to  Caltura,  I discovered  near  the 
shore  a second  plant-wonder;  it  was  an  ancient  India-rubber 
tree  whose  reticulated  roots  formed  a veritable  labyrinth  in 
which  swarms  of  merry  children  romped  and  played  at  hide 
and  seek. 

Another  attractive  point  of  the  Galle-Colombo  road  is 
the  rest-house  at  Bentotte,  at  which  the  passengers  of  the 
“ Royal  mail-coach”  are  allowed  to  rest,  and  refresh  them- 
selves with  breakfast.  A peculiar  delicacy  served  at  this 
meal  are  the  celebrated  oysters  of  Bentotte,  which  may 
be  had  raw,  broiled,  or  pickled.  Prom  the  rest-house, 
which  is  picturesquely  situated  between  lofty  tamarind 
trees  on  a hill,  there  is  a fine  view  of  the  ocean,  and  the 
bridge  which  spans  the  river.  After  breakfast  I rambled 
down  to  the  bridge,  below  which  some  natives  were  dredg- 
ing for  oysters,  then  through  the  picturesque  bazaars  of  the 
long  village  street.  The  traffic  in  these  bazaars  is  in  as 
perfect  accord  with  their  idyllic  surroundings  as  are  the 
unpretending  huts,  and  the  primitive  costumes  of  their  half 
naked  inhabitants.  Among  the  most  important  articles  of 
commerce,  rice  and  curry  form  the  most  necessary  food, 
betel  and  areca  the  favorite  luxury.  These,  together  with 
other  articles  of  trade,  are  tastefully  spread  out  on  fresh 
banana  leaves  in  the  open  shops,  whose  sole  entrance  an- 
swers the  double  purpose  of  door  and  windows.  Alternat- 
ing with  heaps  of  cocoa-nuts  are  luscious  bananas,  nutri- 
tious yams,  colocasia,  etc.  Among  them  are  gigantic 
bread-fruits,  weighing  from  fifty  to  eighty  pounds,  the 
closely  allied  jack  fruit,  delicate  mangoes  and  annonas  (the 
custard-apple  of  the  English).  While  the  fragrance  of  the 
noble  fruits  exposed  for  sale  in  these  shops,  which  are  taste- 
fully decorated  by  their  Singhalese  proprietors,  is  pleasant 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


103 


and  agreeable,  intense  odors,  which  are  anything  but  de- 
lightful, occasionally  assail  our  olfactories;  they  emanate 
from  the  heaps  of  dried  sea  animals,  principally  fish  and 
crabs;  of  the  latter,  particularly  large  shrimps — here  called 
prawns — are  favorite  ingredients  for  the  omnipresent  “ rice 
and  curry.” 

Disappointment  awaits  the  traveler  who  expects  to  find 
in  these  Ceylonese  bazaars  the  noise  and  confusion  which 
characterize  the  markets  of  most  peoples,  especially  those 
of  southern  Europe.  Who,  for  instance,  that  is  familiar 
with  the  stir  and  bustle  of  the  Piazza  dell  ’ Erbe  in  Verona, 
or  the  turmoil  of  Santa  Lucia  in  Naples,  would  not  expect 
to  find  far  more  confusion  in  a tropical  bazaar?  Such  is  not 
the  case.  The  sedate,  placid  temperament  of  the  Singha- 
lese is  evident  in  his  commercial  relations,  when  the  inter- 
est of  both  buyer  and  seller  is  as  trifling  as  the  coin  with 
which  he  buys  the  most  luscious  fruits.  These  coins,  by 
the  way,  are  copper  pieces,  of  one  and  five  cents  value. 
One  hundred  of  the  former,  twenty  of  the  latter  make  a 
rupee;  their  impress  is  a cocoa-palm.  Although  the  Sin- 
ghalese is  not  wholly  indifferent  to  money,  he  seems  to  re- 
quire it  less  than  most  of  mother  earth’s  children,  for  the 
reason  that  few  of  her  regions  are  so  lavishly  supplied  with 
nature’s  noblest  gifts  as  this  fortunate  island.  As  much 
rice  as  he  requires  to  sustain  life  may  be  procured  at  the 
expense  of  very  little  labors  from  ten  to  fifteen  cents  will 
supply  all  his  daily  wants,  while  the  fruits  of  the  earth, 
and  the  fishes  of  the  sea  are  so  abundant  that  components 
for  a curry,  and  various  other  mixtures,  are  never  lacking. 

Then  why  should  the  Singhalese  embitter  his  life  with 
toil?  He  is  too  indolent,  or,  rather,  too  philosophical. 
For  this  reason  we  see  him  stretched  at  his  ease  in  front  of 
his  primitive  habitation,  or  squatted  on  the  ground  lazily 
gossiping  with  his  neighbors.  The  trifling  work  his  garden 
requires  is  soon  performed,  and  the  remaining  time  passed 
in  play.  Even  his  amusements  are  anything  but  exciting; 
the  magic  spell  of  rest  and  quiet  seems  to  have  settled  on 
these  fortunate  beings — a condition  that  is  as  strange  as  de- 
lightful to  the  restless  culture-folk  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. 

Fortunate  Singhalese!  No  care  for  the  morrow  or  the 
more  distant  future  troubles  you.  What  you  require 


104 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


for  the  nourishment  of  yourself  and  your  children  grows 
spontaneously  into  your  very  mouth;  your  luxuries  are  ob- 
tained by  the  most  trifling  exertion.  You  are  indeed  like 
the  “lilies  of  the  field,”  that  wanton  around  your  simple 
dwelling;  you  “toil  not,  neither  do  you  spin,”  yet  are  you 
nourished  by  a providential  nature!  No  political  or  war- 
like ambition  tortures  your  soul;  no  disturbing  thought  of 
competition,  or  rise  and  fall  of  stocks,  drives  slumber  from 
your  eyes!  Those  aspirations  of  higher  culture:  titles,  or- 
ders, are  unknown  to  you,  and  yet  you  rejoice  in  your 
life!  I am  almost  tempted  to  believe  you  do  not  envy  the 
European’s  thousand-and-one  superfluous  needs;  you  are 
content  to  remain  nature’s  children — content  with  your 
paradisal  existence.  How  comfortably  you  lie  there, 
dreamily  watching  the  dancing  sunlight  among  the  feathery 
plumes  of  your  cocoa  canopy;  how  you  enjoy  your  betel, 
your  children’s  games,  your  refreshing  bath  in  the  river; 
how  easily  you  accomplish  your  simple  toilet!  What  care- 
burdened  civilian  would  not  covet  your  innocent  nature 
and  your  paradisal  rest? 

These  and  kindred  reflections  passed  through  my  brain 
while  the  coach  was  changing  horses  at  the  last  station 
before  Galle,  where  groups  of  indolent  natives  were  enjoy- 
ing life  in  the  shade  of  the  bananas.  Here,  indeed,  the 
“struggle  for  existence”  seemed  to  have  ceased!  I was 
roused  from  my  reverie  by  the  two  horse-tamers  who  asked 
me  to  resume  my  place  on  the  front  seat,  the  noble  Mala- 
bars  at  the  same  moment  suggesting  in  broken  English, 
that  it  was  time  to  think  of  the  customary  “fee”  to  the 
coachman  and  groom,  as  after  the  arrival  at  Galle  they 
would  be  too  busy  to  properly  attend  to  this  momentous 
transaction.  I had  noticed  that  an  opulent  native  passen- 
ger on  reaching  his  destination  had  given  each  of  the  men 
a “ double- anna”  and  believed  myself  sufficiently  taxed  as 
“white  man”  if  I paid  four  times  that  amount.  I handed 
to  each  a shilling,  but  my  gratuity  was  indignantly  rejected 
by  both  the  men,  who  read  me  a joint  lecture  on  the  impor- 
tance of  color  that  was  certainly  very  complimentary  to 
my  complexion.  The  purport  of  this  homily  was,  that 
every  white  “gentleman”  was  expected  to  bestow  at  least 
one  rupee  on  each  of  the  men,  and  that  I — who  must  belong 
to  one  of  the  highest  castes,  by  reason  of  my  fair  complexion 


- INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


105 


and  light  hair — would  be  expected  to  pay  considerably 
more.  Although  taxation  levied  in  this  manner  could  not 
fail  to  tickle  my  vanity,  I was  not  to  be  inveigled  into  pay- 
ing more  than  the  usual  “white-tax.”  I gave  each  of  the 
men  a rupee,  and  had  the  satisfaction  afterwards  of  hearing 
myself  pronounced  a “perfect  gentleman.”  When  I con- 
sidered the  exquisite  enjoyment  of  the  delightful  five-hours’ 
coach  ride,  I found  the  exorbitant  fare  of  seventeen  florins 
quite  reasonable,  and  was  really  very  sorry,  notwithstanding 
the  heat  and  weariness,  when  the  light-tower  of  Galle  came 
in  sight.  Shortly  after,  the  mail-coach  rumbled  over  the 
drawbridge  of  the  ancient  moat,  through  a long  gloomy 
gateway,  to  the  door  of  the  “ Oriental  Hotel  ” of  Galle. 


IX. 

PlJKTO  GALLA. 

Ok  a rocky  promontory  that  extends  from  the  west  and 
encloses  the  roomy  harbor,  stands  lovely  Punto  Galla  or 
Point  de  Galle,  from  remote  antiquity  one  of  the  most  cele- 
brated and  important  cities  of  Ceylon.  The  definition  of 
the  Singhalese  Galla  is  “rocks,”  and  bears  no  relation 
whatever  to  the  Latin  g alius,  as  the  island’s  first  European 
masters,  the  Portuguese,  supposed.  An  illustration  of 
this  erroneous  interpretation  remains  to  this  day  on  the 
ancient  city  wall,  in  the  moss-grown  stone  image  of  a cock 
with  the  numerals  1640. 

Galle,  according  to  the  testimony  of  ancient  authors,  was 
an  important  commercial  emporium,  and  probably  the 
largest  and  wealthiest  city  on  the  island  more  than  two 
thousand  years  ago.  Here,  the  eastern  and  western  halves 
of  the  old  world  met  and  clasped  hands;  here,  the  Arabian 
navigator  who  ventured  thus  far  from  his  Persian  Gulf, 
traded  with  the  Malay  from  the  Sun  da  Archipelago,  and 
with  the  Chinese  from  the  remote  East.  The  Oriental  Tar- 
shish  of  the  ancient  Phoenician  and  Hebrew  writers  must 
have  been  Galle;  the  apes  and  peacocks,  the  ivory  and  the 
gold  which  the  navigators  of  those  days  brought  from  far- 
famed  Tarshish,  were  designated  by  the  same  terms  that 


106 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


are  applied  to  them  to-day  by  the  Tamils  of  Ceylon;  while 
the  more  accurate  descriptions  of  the  oft-visited  harbor  of 
Tarshish  can  be  applied  to  but  one  of  all  Ceylon’s  harbors 
— to  the  celebrated  “ rocky  point/’  Pun  to  Galla. 

Galle’s  natural  advantages  and  geographical  position 
near  the  southernmost  point  of  Ceylon — under  the  sixth 
degree  of  latitude — as  well  as  her  climatic  and  topographi- 
cal conditions,  are  so  obvious  that  one  would  naturally 
suppose  them  all-sufficient  to  establish  her  precedence  as 
the  most  important  commercial  station  on  the  coast.  But 
the  continual  efforts  of  the  British  Government  to  elevate 
Colombo  at  the  expense  of  Galle,  and  especially  the  im- 
proved facilities  of  communication  between  Colombo  and 
the  interior  of  the  island,  as  well  as  her  nearer  proximity 
to  the  coffee  districts,  have  in  late  years  considerably  in- 
jured Galle.  As  I remarked  before,  by  far  the  largest  por- 
tion of  the  island’s  trade  has  withdrawn  to  Colombo,  and 
Galle’s  beautiful  harbor  is  not  what  it  once  was.  How- 
ever, Galle  still  remains  the  most  important  seaboard  town 
next  to  Colombo,  and  especially  will  she  continue  to  be  the 
natural  outlet  for  the  rich  products  of  the  south  province. 
Chief  among  these  are  the  manifold  properties  of  the  co- 
coa-palm: the  superior  cocoa  oil;  coir,  the  stout  fibres  of 
the  cocoanut  which  is  used  principally  for  the  manufac- 
ture of  cordage;  palm  sugar,  from  which  arrack  is  distilled, 
etc.  Formerly  Galle  played  an  important  part  in  the  gem 
traffic,  which  she  still  does  in  the  graphite  or  plumbago 
trade.  If  the  railway  were  to  be  completed  from  Caltura 
to  Galle,  and  the  rocks  and  coral-reefs  which  render  parts 
of  the  excellent  harbor  dangerous,  were  removed  with  dy- 
namite, then  would  Punto  Galla’s  vanished  prosperity  be 
restored  and  flourish  with  renewed  vigor. 

The  situation  of  Galle  is  charming,  and  it  is  quite  natu- 
ral that  in  nearly  all  the  earlier  descriptions  of  Ceylon 
travel  this  point,  on  which  the  voyager  first  debarked, 
should  be  specially  mentioned  and  extolled.  The  Euro- 
pean or  “ white  town” — the  “fort” — occupies  the  crest  of 
the  rocky  tongue  of  land  before  mentioned,  and  consists 
of  one-storied  stone  houses,  encircled  by  wide  verandas 
which  are  upheld  by  rows  of  pillars,  and  covered  by  pro- 
jecting tile  roofs.  Flourishing  gardens  add  as  much  to 
the  adornment  of  the  city  as  the  broad  avenues  of  shade- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


107 


dispensing  suriya  ( Thespesia  populned)  and  hibiscus  trees 
{Hibiscus  rosa  sinensis).  The  latter  here  take  the  place 
of  the  rose  tree;  they  are  covered  with  crisp,  shining  green 
foliage  and  lovely  crimson  flowers,  which  the  English  resi- 
dent prosaically  designates  “ shoe-flowers,”  because  a de- 
coction of  their  fruit  is  used  to  polish  shoes. 

The  most  conspicuous  among  the  public  buildings  is  the 
Protestant  church,  a handsome  Gothic  structure  built  on 
one  of  the  highest  points  of  the  hilly  city.  Its  thick  stone 
walls  and  garland  of  shade  trees  render  the  vaulted  interior 
delightfully  cool,  it  was  decidedly  refreshing  when,  one 
Sunday  forenoon,  tired  by  an  extended  ramble,  I sought 
shelter  from  the  too  ardent  rays  of  Helios  in  this  shaflowy 
retreat. 

Opj)osite  the  church  is  the  “Queen’s  House,”  the  largest 
edifice  in  Galle,  and  formerly  the  official  residence  of  the 
governor.  Here,  travelers  of  rank,  or  those  furnished  with 
special  commendations,  were  hospitably  entertained  by  the 
governor;  and  this,  perhaps,  is  why  the  government 
building  in  Galle  and  its  near  neighborhood,  are  usually 
the  first  points  mentioned  andTadmired  in  the  earlier  de- 
scriptions of  Ceylon  travel.  Among  the  German  travelers 
who  have  been  entertained  here  are  Messrs.  Hoffmeister 
and  Eansonnet.  Several  years  ago  this  “house  of  the 
Queen”  passed  into  private  hands,  and  is  now  the  property 
of  Messrs.  Clark,  Spence  & Co.,  the  largest  mercantile 
house  in  the  city.  I brought  letters  of  introduction  from 
Herr  Stipperger  to  the  head  of  this  firm,  Mr.  Henry  Scott, 
by  whom  I was  most  cordially  received.  Two  of  the  ele- 
gant, roomy  apartments  in  the  “ Queen’s  House”  and  a 
breezy  veranda  were  placed  at  my  disposal,  and  everything 
done  to  render  my  sojourn  in  Galle  as  pleasant  as  possible. 

I not  only  felt  at  home  in  Mr.  Scott’s  agreeable  family 
circle,  but  learned  to  know  in  him  an  English  merchant 
whose  varied  attainments  eminently  fit  him  for  the  promi- 
nent positions  he  occupies. 

At  present  he  represents  several  European  consulates, 
and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  was  not  also  chosen  to  be 
Germany’s  consular  representative.  The  present  incum- 
bent of  that  office  in  Galle,  Mr.  Vanderspaar,  does  not 
speak  German,  nor  does  he  exhibit  the  least  interest  for 
the  country  he  represents.  Judging  from  the  reports  of 


108 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


former  travelers  I infer  that  Mr.  Vanderspaar’s  father  and 
predecessor  in  office  was  distinguished  by  the  same  nega- 
tive qualities.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Sco'tt,  who  spent 
a number  of  years  at  school  in  Germany,  speaks  the  lan- 
guage of  that  country  with  great  fluency,  and  entertains  a 
high  regard  for  German  literature  and  science.  Having 
the  good  fortune  to  be  considered  a representative  of  the 
latter  I enjoyed  every  advantage  Mr.  Scott’s  liberal  hospi- 
tality could  supply.  Such  treatment  naturally  reduced  me 
to  a state  of  indecision,  whether  it  would  not  be  wiser  to 
accept  his  generous  offer  and  set  up  my  zoological  labora- 
tory £or  several  weeks  among  the  European  comforts  and 
conveniences  of  the  “ Queen’s  House,”  and  in  the  midst  of 
a pleasant  family  circle,  than  in  Belligam  surrounded  by 
semi-savages. 

However,  I manfully  resisted  the  allurements  of  the  for- 
mer alternative,  and  was  richly  rewarded  for  it;  in  Belli- 
gam I obtained  a better  view  of  the  primitive  nature  of 
Ceylon  and  its  aboriginal  inhabitants  than  I could  have  in 
civilized  Galle. 

The  short  time  I remained  in  the  latter  city,  as  well  as 
the  brief  visit  I paid  Mr.  Scott  on  my  return  from  Belli- 
gam, was,  by  the  circumspect  aid  of  that  gentleman,  so 
profitably  spent  that,  notwithstanding  the  brevity  of  the 
period,  I obtained  an  excellent  insight  into  the  natural 
beauties  around  Galle,  and  the  wealth  of  her  magnificent 
coral  banks.  At  any  hour  I might  elect,  both  of  Mr. 
Scott’s  carriages  were  at  my  disposal  for  an  excursion  by 
land,  and  his  comfortable  boat — manned  by  three  stout 
Malabars— at  my  command  for  an  expedition  by  water. 
Besides,  Mr.  Scott  introduced  me  to  several  prominent 
English  residents  who  could  materially  assist  me  in  my 
scientific  investigations;  to  Captains  Bayley  and  Blythe  in 
particular  I am  greatly  indebted  for  numerous  favors. 

The  first  and  most  convenient  promenade  after  arriving 
in  Galle  is  usually  a tour  around  the  fort  on  the  high  walls. 
These  walls,  which  were  solidly  built  of  brick  by  the  Dutch, 
rise  to  a considerable  elevation  above  the  water;  from  the 
east  wall  may  be  obtained  a fine  view  of  the  harbor,  the 
wooded  hills  encircling  it,  and  the  blue  mountain  chains 
of  the  distant  highlands.  From  the  south  and  west  walls 
one  looks  down  on  the  wonderful  coral  banks  that  girt  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


109 


rocky  promontory  on  every  side.  These  coral  garden? 
which,  at  ebb  tide,  display  a large  portion  of  their  flowen 
like  animals,  are  especially  beautiful  near  the  light-tower 
at  the  south-west  corner  of  the  fort.  Two  ancient  gateways 
whose  stone  pillars,  like  the  walls,  are  covered  with  luxu- 
riant ferns  and  mosses,  lead  from  the  interior  of  the  fort 
into  the  open.  The  east  gate  opens  on  the  quay;  the  one 
on  the  north  side  opens  on  the  esplanade,  a green  level 
stretch  that  separates  the  fort  from  the  pettah,  or  “ Black 
Town.”  The  latter  comprises  the  simple  habitations  and 
bazaars  of  the  natives;  part  of  it  extends  in  an  easterly  di- 
rection along  the  mole  around  the  harbor,  another  section 
stretches  along  the  shore  and  the  Colombo  road.  Both 
lose  themselves  without  definite  limits  among  the  groups 
of  houses  and  clusters  of  huts  that  are  scattered  every- 
where in  the  surrounding  cocoa-groves. 

In  a beautiful  situation  on  a neighboring  hill  opposite 
the  fort,  is  the  Catholic  church,  with  which  are  connected 
a Catholic  school  and  mission.  In  the  director  of  the  lat- 
ter, Padre  Palla  (the  successor  of  the  esteemed  Padre  Mili- 
ani — frequently  mentioned  in  former  books  of  travel),  I 
found  a very  agreeable  and  well-informed  gentleman;  he  is 
a native  of  Triest,  and  was  greatly  delighted  to  find  me 
able  to  converse  with  him  about  that  city  and  Dalmatia  in 
his  beloved  Italian  mother  tongue.  The  well-kept  mission 
garden  is,  like  most  of  the  gardens  in  the  Eden-like  envi- 
rons of  Galle,  rich  in  the  magnificent  productions  of  the 
tropical  zone-  wonders  that  would  delight  the  heart  of 
every  botan.st  and  plant  friend. 

But  the  most  enchanting  spot,  to  my  taste,  in  the  whole 
neighborhood  is  Captain  Bayley’s  “ Villa  Marina.”  This 
enterprising  gentleman  was  formerly  a ship  captain,  and  is 
now  the  agent  for  the  P.  and  0.  Company.  His  intense  love 
for  nature  prompted  him  to  select  for  his  residence  a spot 
that  for  wild  and  picturesque  beauty  cannot  be  surpassed. 
About  midway  in  the  wide  semicircular  sweep  of  shore 
which  encloses  the  northern  part  of  the  harbor,  two  huge 
masses  of  gneiss  rock  jut  far  out  into  the  ocean;  several 
small  rock  islets,  densely  overgrown  with  pandanus  shrubs, 
are  grouped  like  sentinels  around  them.  On  one  of  these 
rock  masses  (the  one  farthest  towards  the  east)  Captain 
Bayley  has  built  a tasteful  villa  that,  with  its  lovely  garden, 


110 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


forms  a veritable  “Miramare  of  Galla.”  From  the  west 
windows  of  the  villa,  and  particularly  from  the  terrace  out- 
side, one  enjoys  a view  of  the  city  and  the  intervening 
harbor  that  is  not  surpassed  by  any  point  of  view  in  the 
neighborhood.  The  light-tower  and  the  Protestant  church 
are  salient  features  in  the  beautiful  panorama,  and  are 
especially  attractive  when  illumined  by  the  golden  radiance 
of  the  morning  sun.  A charming  middle  ground  is  offered 
by  the  picturesque  black  rock-islets  with  their  fantastic 
decorations  of  screw-palms;  and  the  little  Singhalese  fish- 
ing huts  nestling  at  their  feet.  For  the  foreground,  the 
cloven  rocks  tossed  about,  and  heaped  up  in  the  wildest 
disorder  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  villa,  will  furnish 
a grotesque  motive — or,  if  a friendlier  character  is  desired 
for  the  picture,  then  copy  a stretch  of  the  lovely  garden 
with  its  adornments  of  choicest  tropical  plants. 

Among  the  numerous  embellishments  of  this  garden  are 
several  splendid  examples  of  the  Egyptian  dhum-palm 
(. Hyphcene  thebaica ),  in  which  I was  specially  interested. 
The  strong  stem  of  this  palm  is  not,  like  most  of  the  trees 
belonging  to  this  family,  a slender  column,  but  is  repeatedly 
forked  like  the  dragon-tree,  or  draccena;  every  branch 
bears  a crown  of  fan-shaped  leaves.  I had  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  this  celebrated  palm — which  grows  principally 
in  Upper  Egypt — in  the  Arabian  village  of  Tur,  at  the  foot 
of  Mt.  Sinai,  and  have  given  an  illustration  of  it  in  my 
Arabischen  Korallen  (plate  iv.  p.  28).  You  may,  there- 
fore, imagine  how  surprised  I was  when  I here  beheld  the 
same  tree  in  so  different  a guise  that  I scarcely  recognized 
it.  The  adapting  it  to  the  totally  different  conditions  of 
life  in  Ceylon  had  transformed  the  Egyptian  dhum-palm 
to  quite  another  tree.  The  powerful  stem  seemed  at  least 
twice  as  strong  and  far  more  vigorous  than  in  its  native 
land;  the  forked  branches  were  more  numerous,  but 
shorter  and  more  compact;  the  gigantic  fan-shaped  leaves 
much  larger,  more  luxuriant,  and  more  succulent;  the 
flowers  and  fruit  seemed  also  to  have  increased  in  size  and 
beauty.  Indeed  the  entire  habitus  of  the  beautiful  tree 
had  so  changed  in  the  forcing-house  climate  of  Ceylon 
that  the  most  essential  features  of  its  inherited  physi- 
ognomy seemed  to  have  entirely  disappeared.  And  all  this 
had  been  accomplished  by  the  changed  conditions — above 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


111 


all,  the  increased  humidity  of  the  atmosphere — of  this  tree, 
accustomed  from  its  earliest  infancy  to  the  hot,  dry  climate 
of  the  North  African  deserts.  The  stately  dhum-palms  in 
the  Villa  Marina  garden  were  grown  from  seed  brought 
from  Egypt,  and  in  the  space  of  twenty  years  have  at- 
tained a height  of  thirty  feet! 

A large  portion  of  the  villa  is  taken  up  by  an  extensive 
fernery.  Ferns  thrive  excellently  well  in  the  natural  forc- 
ing-house climate  of  Ceylon,  and  Captain  Bayley,  in  addi- 
tion to  a choice  selection  of  the  most  beautiful  native  ferns, 
has  a number  of  remarkable  exotics.  Here  one  may  at  a 
glance  view  the  entire  wealth  of  delicate  and  attractive 
forms  which  are  unfolded  by  these  exquisite  cryptograms. 
5jTor  is  there  a lack  of  tree  ferns,  selaginellas  and  lyco- 
podise. 

There  are  charms  for  the  zoologist  as  well  as  for  the 
botanist  in  this  miramare  of  Galla.  A miniature  menagerie 
in  the  lower  court  contains  a number  of  curious  mammals 
and  birds,  besides  an  ostrich  from  New  Holland,  several 
owls  and  parrots,  and  a native  ant-eater  ( Mctnis ).  The 
latter,  together  with  several  curious  fish,  Captain  Bayley 
was  kind  enough  to  present  to  me;  and  on  Christmas,  after 
I had  gone  to  Belligam,  he  sent  me  another  interesting  gift 
in  the  shape  of  a pair  of  loris  ( Stenops ).  But  far  more 
attractive  to  me  than  these  curious  animals  were  the  ex- 
quisite corals  that  literally  cover  the  rocks  surrounding 
Villa  Marina;  even  the  little  harbor  in  which  Captain  Bay- 
ley  moors  his  boats,  and  the  stone  piers  of  the  landing- 
place  are  thickly  coated  with  these  lovely  creatures.  A 
great  many  other  marine  animals  that  inhabit  the  Galle 
coral  banks  are  also  to  be  found  crowded  into  this  limited 
space:  huge  black  sea-urchins  and  red  sea-stars,  multitudes 
of  crabs  and  fish,  beautifully  variegated  snails  and  mussels, 
curious  worms  of  different  classes,  and  whatever  the  motley 
company  may  be  called  that  lives,  moves,  and  has  its  being 
among  the  branches  of  the  coral  trees.  For  this  reason 
Captain  Bayley’s  villa,  which  he  is  willing  to  dispose  of  on 
account  of  his  removal  to  Colombo,  is  peculiarly  adapted  for 
a zoological  station,  and  is  besides  but  half  a mile  from  the 
city. 

If  you  ramble  along  the  rocky  shore  in  an  easterly  direc- 
tion around  the  bay  of  Galle,  you  will  gradually  ascend  one 


112 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


of  the  higher  outlooks  from  which  there  is  another  beauti- 
ful view  of  the  city  and  harbor,  and  which  is  fitly  named 
“ Bella  Vista.  ” Here  a Protestant  clergyman,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Marx,  has  built  himself  a handsome  villa  and  established  a 
mission. 

The  thickly-wooded  hill,  which  juts  into  the  water  in  a 
southerly  direction,  ends  abruptly  in  a steep  rocky  bluff 
that  faces  the  light-tower  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  har- 
bor. There  was  a project  at  one  time  to  fortify  this  point, 
but  it  was  never  carried  into  effect.  Several  cannon  still 
peer  from  the  tangled  masses  of  wanton  creepers;  a merry 
company  of  apes  were  frolicking  over  the  bluff  the  Sunday 
afternoon  I visited  it.  The  narrow  path  I followed  for 
some  distance  led  me  along  the  steep  rocky  shore  into  a 
dense  thicket  of  pandanus  trees  and  lianas.  The  thicket 
is  cloven  by  a deep  ravine,  along  the  bottom  of  which  a 
mountain  brook  leaps  merrily  towards  the  sea.  Near  its 
mouth  the  stream  falls  into  a natural  basin  of  rock,  and 
this  is  a favorite  bathing  resort  for  the  native  inhabitants 
of  Galle.  The  day  I came  unexpectedly  from  the  thicket 
I surprised  a dusky  group  of  bathers,  of  both  sexes,  disport- 
ing themselves  in  the  cool  water  of  the  “ Onawatty  Basin.” 

There  is  another  similar  rock  basin  below  the  bluff;  it  is 
called  the  “watering  place,”  because  its  abundant  flow 
supplies  most  of  the  ships  with  delicious  drinking  water. 
The  walls  of  rock  which  enclose  this  natural  basin  are  over- 
grown with  thorny  date-palms  ( Phoenix  sylvestris),  snowy- 
blossomed  asclepias,  and  green-gray  euphorbias  {Euphorbia 
antiquorum ),  that  resemble  a huge  “girandole  cactus;” 
they,  together  with  their  “wooden-legged”  neighbors,  the 
pandanus  trees,  belong  to  the  most  peculiar  growths  of  these 
thickets. 

Quite  a different  character  from  the  savage  rocks  on  the 
south-east  of  Galle,  is  shown  by  the  placid  valleys  extending 
between  the  rows  of  wooded  hills  north  of  the  city.  Here 
the  idyllic  character  of  the  south-west  coast  again  predomi- 
nates. A favorite  excursion  in  this  direction  is  to  “ Wack- 
welle  Hill,”  on  whose  summit  an  excellent  carriage  road 
winds  through  a beautiful  grove  of  cocoa-palms.  In  the 
grove,  which  is  a favorite. resort  for  picnic  parties  from  the 
city,  an  enterprising  speculator  lately  opened  a restaurant, 
and  charges  every  visitor,  whether  he  patronizes  the  estab- 


India  and  geylon. 


113 


\ 

lishment  or  not,  a sixpence  for  the  lovely  view.  The  latter 
comprises  the  broad,  verdure-clad  valley  of  the  Gindura 
River,  which  empties  into  the  sea  half  a mile  north  of  the 
city.  Like  a glittering  ribbon  of  silver  the  river  winds 
among  the  crisp  green  rice  fields,  the  “ paddy  fields”  that 
cover  the  lower  portions  of  the  valley.  The  slopes  on  either 
side  are  adorned  with  the  most  luxuriant  shrubbery  that  is 
animated  everywhere  by  multitudes  of  apes  and  parrots. 
In  the  distance  rise  the  ever-present  mountain  ranges  of 
the  highlands,  and  towering  above  them,  the  stately  “ Hay- 
cock,” which  takes  its  name  from  its  peculiar  form,  a 
bell-shaped  stack  of  hay.  This  peak  is  visible  for  a long 
distance,  and  serves  as  a landmark  for  approaching  ships. 

But  more  enchanting  than  the  land  gardens  in  the 
vicinity  of  Galle  are  the  submarine  gardens  of  coral  that 
encircle  the  walls  of  the  fort,  and  I still  regret  that  I was 
not  able  to  devote  weeks  instead  of  a few  days  to  their 
investigation.  In  this  particular  Ransonnet,  the  Vienna 
artist,  was  more  fortunate.  Aided  by  the  best  of  modern 
appliances  for  marine  investigations — among  them  an  im- 
proved diving-bell — he  devoted  several  weeks  to  studying 
the  coral  banks  in  Galle  harbor,  and  has  given  an  excellent 
description  of  them  in  his  illustrated  work  on  Ceylon. 
(Westermann,  Brunswick,  1868.)  Four  colored  plates,  for 
which  he  made  the  sketches  under  water  in  his  diving-bell, 
illustrate  animal  life  in  this  mysterious  coral  world. 

Nine  years  ago,  when  I visited  the  coral  banks  of  the  Red 
Sea  at  Tur,  on  the  Sinai  coast,  and  for  the  first  time  saw 
the  wonderful  formation  of  these  enchanted  submarine  gar- 
dens, my  highest  interest  was  excited,  and  I attempted  in 
my  popular  lectures  on  “Arabian  Corals”  (Berlin,  1876) 
to  briefly  describe  the  organization  of  the  remarkable  ani 
mals,  and  their  connection  with  various  other  creatures. 
The  corals  of  Ceylon,  with  which  I became  acquainted  in 
Galle  and  Belligam,  vividly  recalled  those  delightful  ex~ 
periences,  and  enriched  me  with  an  abundance  of  new  ones. 

The  Indian  marine  fauna  of  Ceylon  is  closely  allied  to 
the  Arabian  fauna  of  the  Red  Sea,  both  having  many 
genera  and  species  in  common.  But  the  number  and 
variety  of  different  organisms  is  considerably  larger  in  the 
broad  basin  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  with  its  diversified  coast 
development,  than  in  the  circumscribed  limits  of  the 


114 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON \ 


Arabian  G-ulf,  with  its  uniform  and  monotonous  condi- 
tions of  life.  I also  found  that,  in  spite  of  the  apparent 
similarity  of  the  coral  banks  in  these  two  regions,  there 
was  considerable  difference  between  their  general  physi- 
ognomy. While  the  predominant  hues  of  those  at  Tur  are 
a warm  yellow,  red,  orange,  and  brown;  the  prevailing 
color  in  the  coral  gardens  of  Ceylon  is  green — green  in  all 
its  various  shades  and  tones.  Yellow-green  Alcyonia  stand 
beside  sea-green  Heteropora;  malachite-green  Anthophylla 
beside  olive-green  Millepora;  emerald-green  Madrepora  and 
Astrese  beside  brown-green  Montipora  and  Meandrina. 

Eansonnet  justly  remarked  the  striking  predominance 
of  green  everywhere  in  Ceylon.  Not  only  is  the  greater  part 
of  this  “ever-green  isle”  ornamented  the  whole  year 
through  with  an  unfading  carpet  of  verdure,  but  a majority 
of  the  animals  that  inhabit  it  are  conspicuously  green.  The 
most  numerous  birds  and  lizards,  butterflies  and  beetles 
are  decked  in  brilliant  green,  as  are  also  many  of  the  marine 
creatures  of  widely  different  classes,  namely,  fish  and  crabs, 
worms  ( AmpMnomce ) and  sea-roses  (Actinia);  why,  even 
animals  that  elsewhere  seldom  or  never  don  the  green  livery, 
here  wear  it  as  a constant  uniform,  as,  for  instance,  several 
members  of  the  star-fish  family  ( Ophiura ),  sea-urchins,  sea- 
cucumbers,  giant  mussels  ( Tridacna ),  spirula  and  others 
of  a similar  character.  An  explanation  of  this  phenomenon 
may  be  deduced  from  the  Darwinian  theory  of  selection, 
especially  from  the  law  of  adaptation  as  applied  to  the 
“sympathetic  selection  of  color,”  which  I have  demon- 
strated in  my  Natural  History  of  the  Creation  (seventh 
ed.,  p.  235).  The  less  the  predominant  color  of  an  animal 
differs  from  that  of  its  environments,  the  less  likely  is  it  to 
attract  the  notice  of  its  foes,  the  easier  it  can  unobserved 
approach  its  prey,  and  consequently,  the  more  it  is  likely 
to  be  favored  in  the  “ struggle  for  existence.”  Natural  se- 
lection, therefore,  constantly  increases  tl}e  harmony  between 
the  prevailing  hue  of  the  organism  and  that  of  its  environ- 
ments, because  it  is  of  advantage  to  the  former.  The  coral 
banks  of  Ceylon,  with  their  predominant  green  inhabitants, 
as  aptly  illustrate  this  theory  as  the  green  land  animals 
that  animate  the  ever-verdant  thickets  of  the  island.  But 
the  former  surpass  the  latter  in  purity  and  brilliancy  of 
coloring. 


AVUIA  AND  CEYLON. 


115 


It  would  be  a mistake  to  conclude  that  this  excess  of  a 
single  color  would  become  monotonous.  On  the  contrary 
one  never  wearies  of  its  various  tones  and  exquisite  modi- 
fications. Besides  it  enhances  the  beauty  of  various  other 
hues;  the  lovely  red,  yellow,  violet,  and  blue  tints  of  many 
birds  and  insects  are  rendered  doubly  attractive  by  reason 
of  their  contrast  with  the  dark  green  forests  of  Ceylon. 
So  with  the  same  brilliant  hues  of  many  of  the  sea  an7’ 
mals  on  the  coral  banks.  Especially  conspicuous  for  their 
splendid  coloring  and  peculiar  markings,  are  many  of  the 
small  fishes  and  crabs  that  seek  nourishment  among  the 
branches  of  the  coral  trees.  Some  of  the  corals  are  also 
highly  colored;  for  instance,  many  Procilloporce  are  rose- 
colored,  many  star-corals  are  red  or  yellow,  many  Hete- 
roporae  and  Madreporae  are  violet' and  brown,  etc.  Unfort- 
unately these  exquisite  tints  are  for  the  most  part  extremely 
transitory,  and  vanish  directly  the  corals  are  taken  from 
the  water,  and  frequently  on  being  merely  touched.  The 
sensitive  animals,  those  with  widely  extended  cilia,  and 
magnificent  with  brilliant  coloring,  then  suddenly  contract, 
and  become  dull,  colorless,  and  shapeless. 

If  the  gorgeous  hues  of  the  coral  gardens  and  their  motley 
inhabitants  charm  the  eye,  then  will  it  be  completely  fas- 
cinated with  the  beauty  and  variety  of  form  unfolded  by 
these  diminutive  creatures.  As  each  one  of  the  radiant 
coral  individuals  may  fitly  be  compared  to  a lovely  flower, 
so  the  united  groups  may  be  said  to  resemble  trees  and 
shrubs.  Formerly,  indeed,  corals  were  universally  believed 
to  be  actual  plants,  and  it  was  a long  time  before  the  world 
became  convinced  of  their  true  animal  nature. 

At  ebb  tide,  when  the  water  is  perfectly  calm,  the  coral 
gardens  offer  an  enchanting  and  fairy-like  spectacle.  Near 
the  fort  the  water  is  so  shallow  that  the  keel  of  the  boat- 
grates  upon  the  callous  animal  groups,  and  so  clear  that 
you  can  plainly  distinguish  the  coral  trees  from  the  top,of 
the  walls.  Such  an  abundance  of  beautiful  and  remark- 
able forms  are  concentrated  in  this  narrow  space  that  I 
was  able  in  a few  days  to  make  a splendid  collection. 

Mr.  Scott’s  garden,  in  which  he  kindly  allowed  me  to 
dry  my  collection,  presented  a very  curious  appearance. 
The  magnificent  tropical  plants  seemed  to  vie  with  the 
strange  usurpers  from  the  sea  for  the  prize  of  beauty  and 


116 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


brilliancy  of  coloring,  while  the  happy  naturalist,  intoxi- 
cated with  delight,  rambled  among  them,  unable  to  decide 
whether  the  prize  should  be  given  to  the  flora  or  the  fauna. 
The  corals  with  all  their  exquisite  varieties  of  form  imitated 
the  most  beautiful  plant  forms,  while  the  orchids  and  spice- 
lilies  in  turn  simulated  insects.  The  two  great  kingdoms 
of  the  organic  world  here  seemed  to  have  made  an  ex- 
change of  form. 

The  majority  of  the  corals  I collected  in  Galle,  and  later 
in  Belligam,  were  obtained  with  the  assistance  of  divers. 
These  I found  as  skilful  and  persevering  as  the  Arabian 
divers  at  Tur.  Armed  with  strong  iron  chisels  they  would 
loosen  large  blocks  of  the  calcareous  structures  and  carefully 
raise  them  to  the  surface  of  the  water.  Many  of  the  blocks 
weighed  from  fifty  to  eighty  pounds,  and  required  no  little 
dexterity  and  labor  to  be  safely  deposited  in  the  boat. 
Some  corals  are  so  brittle  they  break  with  their  own  weight 
when  lifted  from  the  water.  It  is,  therefore,  unfortunately 
impossible  to  secure  unbroken  specimens  of  many  of  the 
most  attractive  forms.  Among  the  most  brittle  corals  are 
certain  delicate  Turlinarm  whose  convoluted  stems  resem- 
ble inverted  cones,  while  some  of  the  many-pronged  Het- 
eroporm , are  like  colossal,  hundred-branched  stag-horns. 

The  entire  attraction  of  a coral  bank  cannot  be  seen  from 
above,  even  though  you  float  immediately  over  it  at  ebb 
tide,  and  the  water  is  so  shallow  your  boat  scrapes  against 
the  points.  A descent  into  the  fluid  element  is  therefore 
necessary.  Not  possessing  a diving-bell  I attempted  to 
swim  to  the  bottom,  keeping  my  eyes  open,  and  after  con- 
siderable practice  accomplished  this  feat.  Quite  wonder- 
ful, then,  is  the  mystical  green  glimmer  that  illumines  the 
whole  of  this  submarine  world.  The  fascinated  eye  is 
continually  surprised  by  the  most  remarkable  light-effects, 
quite  different  from  those  of  the  familiar  upper  world  with 
its  “ rosy  radiance,”  and  doubly  curious  and  interesting 
are  the  forms  and  movements  of  all  the  thousand  different 
creatures  swarming  in  the  coral  gardens.  The  diver  is  in 
a new  world.  Here  are  multitudes  of  remarkable  fishes, 
crabs,  snails,  mussels,  star-creatures,  worms,  etc.,  whose 
nourishment  consists  exclusively  of  the  flesh  of  the  coral 
animals  on  which  their  habitations  are  fixed;  and  these 
coral-devourers — one  may  appropriately  term  them  “para- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


117 


sites” have,  through  adaptation  to  their  peculiai  mode  of 

life  acquired  the  most  astonishing  forms,  and  have  been 
furnished  with  weapons  of  defence  and  offence  of  the  most 

singular  shapes.  _ „ 

But  if  the  naturalist  may  not  ramble  free  from  danger 
among  palms,  neither  may  he  swim  unmolested  among 
coral  banks.  The  Oceanidse,  who  jealously  guard  these 
cool  fairy  regions  of  the  sea,  threaten  the  intiudei  with  a 
thousand  dangers.  The  fire-corals  (millepora),  as  well  as 
the  medusas  swimming  among  their  branches,  sting,  when 
touched,  like  -the  most  resentful  nettles.  The  floating  cilia 
of  many  of  tho  mailed  fishes  ( SyuctucGicc ) inflict  wounds 
that  are  as  painful  and  dangerous  as  those  of  a scorpion. 
Many  crabs  nip  in  the  severest  manner  with  their  power- 
ful claws.  Black  sea-urchins  ( Diadema ) bore  their  barbed 
spines,  a foot  long,  into  the  flesh,  where  they  break  off  and 
cause  annoying  sores.  But  the  worst  damage  to  the  ven- 
turesome diver  is  inflicted  by  the  corals  themselves.  The 
thousands  of  sharp  points  on  their  calcareous  structures 
cut  and  abrade  the  skin  in  various  ways.  In  all  my 
life  I never  had  such  an  excoriated  and  lacerated  body 
as  when  coral-fishing  at  Bunto  Balia,  and  I suffered  fioni 
the  wounds  for  several  weeks.  But  what  are  these  transi- 
tory sufferings  to  the  naturalist  whose  whole  life  has  been 
enriched  by  the  marvellous  experiences  and  natural  enjoy- 
ments of  his  visit  to  the  wonderful  banks  of  coral ! 


X. 


Bellagemma. 

Bella  gemma — beautiful  gem  ! How  often  I think  of 
thee  ’ How  often  thy  matchless  image  hovers  before  my 
vision  and  calls  to  mind  a world  of  enchanting  reminis- 
cences ! Truly,  if  Ceylon  is  the  diadem  of  India,  then 
art  thou  its  most  transcendent  jewel  ! Bella  gemma  della 

Taprohane!  . - 

The  kindly-disposed  reader  will,  I hope,  pardon  me  tor 
the  unwarrantable  liberty  I have  taken  with  the  orthogia- 
phy  of  Belligam,  which  means  something  vastly  different 


118 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


from  “beautiful  gem.”  The  original  Singhalese  name  of 
the  village  is  Weligama  (which  is  sand-village,  from  well , 
sand,  and  gama,  village).  But  the  English  always  speak 
of  it  as  Belligam,  and  so  we  need  only  substitute  an  a for 
the  i to  give  the  word  an  Italian  sound  and  signification 
which  aptly  describe  the  rare  charms  of  the  lovely  spot.  In 
my  remembrance  at  least  “ Bella-gemma”  will  ever  be  con- 
nected with  a gem  of  transcendent  lustre,  while  the  sandy 
beach  that  gave  “ Weligama”  its  name  is  thrust  into  the 
remote  background. 

After  concluding  to  set  up  my  zoological  laboratory  for 
several  months  in  Belligam,  I naturally  sought  to  in- 
form myself  as  to  its  conditions  of  life.  In  spite  of  re- 
peated inquiries,  however,  I could  learn  nothing  but  that 
the  village  was  pleasantly  situated  in  a cocoa  grove,  that  its 
sheltered  harbor  abounded  in  coral,  and  that  the  rest-house 
was  fairly  comfortable.  The  negative  reports  were:  that- 
neither  European  resident  nor  European  civilization  was 
to  be  found  in  or  near  Belligam — all  of  which  I soon  found 
to  be  very  true.  The  mystic  veil  of  adventure  and  strange- 
ness enveloped  my  near  future,  and  I confess  that  it  was 
not  without  a secret  misgiving  and  a certain  sense  of  inse- 
curity that  I bade  adieu,  on  the  12th  of  December,  to  Galle 
and  European  culture. 

In  Colombo  and  Kandy  I had  seen  how  near  to  aboriginal 
nature  obtruded  the  culture- varnish  of  Europe,  and  how 
narrow  was  the  dividing  line  between  primitive  forest  and 
densely-populated  city.  In  the  most  southerly  portions  of 
the  island  I might  expect  to  find  these  conditions  exagger- 
ated ; consequently  all  my  hopes  and  expectations  were 
centred  on  the  official  document  I had  received  from  the 
governor,  and  on  the  tried  good  fortune  which  had  never 
yet  deserted  me. 

Thus,  full  of  expectation,  I took  my  seat  in  the  light 
wagon  which  was  to  convey  me  along  the  south  coast  to 
Belligam.  It  was  five  o’clock  in  the  morning,  and  still 
quite  dark,  when  I drove  out  from  the  fort  and  through 
the  pettah  along  the  harbor  in  a southerly  direction.  Softly 
slumbering  lay  the  Singhalese  wrapped  in  white  cotton 
sheets  on  the  palm  mats  in  front  of  their  silent  huts.  Not 
a sound  was  to  be  heard.  The  deepest  silence  and  solitude 
lingered  over  the  peaceful  landscape.  All  this  was  suddenly 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


119 


changed  by  the  magic  wand  of  the  rising  sun,  whose  first 
gleams  roused  life  and  motion  among  the  somnolent  palms. 
Several  birds  lifted  up  their  voices  in  the  tops  of  the  trees; 
the  frolicsome  palm  squirrel  quitted  his  nest  and  began  his 
morning  promenade  up  and  down  the  cocoa  stems,  and  the 
indolent  “cabragoya,”  the  huge  green  lizard  ( Hydro - 
saurus ) stretched  his  lazy  limbs  on  the  verge  of  the  pools. 
In  the  gardens  beyond  tire  limits  of  the  city,  nimble  apes 
sported  among  the  fruit  trees  from  which  they  had  just 
stolen  their  breakfast. 

Soon  the  natives  began  to  stir,  and  whole  families  assem- 
bled to  enjoy  their  morning  bath  along  the  public  highway. 

Among  the  many  novel  impressions  which  astonish  the 
European  traveler  in  the  equatorial  regions,  is  the  absence 
of  twilight — that  dreamy  transition  period  between  day  and 
darkness  which  plays  so  important  a part  in  our  northern 
romance  and  poetry.  Scarcely  has  the  radiant  sun,  that  but 
a moment  before  gilded  the  entire  landscape  with  effulgent 
glory,  vanished  into  the  blue  waters  of  the  ocean,  when 
swarthy  night  spreads  her  downy  pinions  over  land  and  sea; 
and  broad  daylight  as  quickly  succeeds  the  dusk  of  early 
morning.  Here  Aurora,  the  rosy-fingered  goddess  of  the 
dawn,  has  lost  her  sway.  But  all  the  more  brilliant  is  the 
young  day  for  his  unheralded  approach,  while  the  sunlight, 
broken  into  a thousand  rays  by  the  feathery  palm  leaves, 
is  all  the  brighter  for  its  sudden  coming.  The  dewdrops 
hang  like  diamonds  from  every  leaf  point,  and  the  glossy 
plumes  of  the  bananas  glitter  in  the  sunshine  like  a thou- 
sand mirrors.  The  gentle  morning  breeze  from  the  sea  gives 
motion  to  the  lovely  plant  'forms,  as  well  as  refreshing  cool- 
ness to  the  traveler.  Everything  breathes  with  new,  fresh 
life  and  enjoyment. 

The  same  features  characterize  the  fifteen  miles  of  excel- 
lent road  between  Galle  and  Belligam  that  were  described 
between  the  former  place  and  Colombo.  Only  here  the 
cocoa-groves  seem  even  more  luxuriant,  more . abundant,  if 
possible,  than  farther  north.  Multitudes  of  climbing 
plants  festoon  the  palms  with  exquisite  garlands  of  verdure 
and  bloom,  while  the  banana  groups,  papayas,  and  bread- 
fruit trees  encircling  the  lowly  huts,  the  dainty  manihots 
and  yams  in  the  hedges,  the  giant  caladium  and  colocasia 
alongside  the  road,  all  seem  more  flourishing,  more  vigor- 


120 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


ous  than  nearer  Colombo.  Besides,  the  cocoa-groves  are 
enlivened  by  numerous  little  ponds  decked  with  lotus  blos- 
soms and  other  aquatic  plants,  and  traversed  by  roistering 
brooks  whose  banks  are  fringed  with  the  loveliest  ferns. 

Then  come  more  rocky  hillocks  cpvered  with  fra- 
grant pandanus  shrubs,  alternating  stretches  of  sand  car- 
peted with  crimson  convolvuli,  white  lilies,  and  other 
showy  flowers.  At  the  mouths  of  the  small  coast  streams 
which  intersect  our  road  appear  the  stately  bamboos 
and  sombre  mangroves;  among  them  the  curious  stemless 
napa-palm  with  its  feathered  crest  just  lifted  above  the 
water. 

Thus  the  eye  never  wearies  of  the  beautiful  plant  forms, 
and  I was  almost  sorry  when,  after  a rapid  drive  of  several 
hours,  my  Tamil  coachman  pointed  towards  a distant  pro- 
montory that  jutted  far  out  into  the  sea  and  said: 

“Weligama  on  the  other  side.” 

Soon  the  detached  huts  along  the  road  became  more  nu- 
merous, and  grouped  themselves  into  village  streets;  on 
either  side  were  crisp  green  rice  fields  interspersed  with 
lovely  groves.  The  stones  in  the  walls  are  chiefly  blocks  of 
coral.  A sudden  turn  brought  us  in  sight  of  an  eminence 
to  the  left  of  the  road,  on  which  stands  an  imposing  Bud- 
dha temple,  called  Agrabnddha-Ganni , a famous  resort  for 
devout  pilgrims.  Close  by,  to  the  right  of  the  road,  and 
shaded  by  a kitool  palm,  is  a colossal  statue  (carved  in  relief 
from  the  black  rock)  of  one  of  the  ancient  kings,  “Kustia 
Baja.”  His  powerful  frame  is  covered  with  scale-armor, 
and  crowned  by  a mitre.  The  ancient  chronicles  not  only 
extol  his  prowess  as  a conqueror,  but  laud  him  as  the  bene- 
factor of  Ceylon  for  teaching  the  Singhalese  the  use  of  the 
cocoanut.  Soon  after  passing  this  statue  we  drove  through 
a little  bazaar,  and  in  a few  minutes  more  halted  in  front 
of  the  long-dreamed-of  rest-house  of  Belligam. 

Around  the  gate  of  the  wall  which  encloses  the  rest-house 
garden  was  a dense  throng  of  inquisitive  human  beings, 
among  whom  I noticed  several  distinguished  natives  of  the 
highest  caste.  In  pursuance  of  the  governor’s  command, 
the  president  of  the  south  province  (or  government  agent, 
which  is  his  less  imposing  title)  had  informed  the  head-men 
of  Belligam  of  my  intended  visit,  and  had  also  directed 
them  to  welcome  me  with  becoming  respect. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON \ 


121 


The  first  head-man,  or  “ mudlyar,”  a stately  man  of  per- 
haps sixty  years,  with  a good-natured  countenance  and  a 
flourishing  beard,  approached  the  wagon  and  greeted  me 
with  a ceremonious  speech  in  broken  English.  He  assured 
me,  with  extreme  politeness  and  dignity,  that  his  whole 
“korle”  or  village  felt  highly  honored  by  my  visit,  and 
that  its  four  thousand  dusky  inhabitants  would  endeavor 
to  make  my  stay  among  them  as  pleasant  as  possible.  As 
for  himself,  he  was  at  my  command  whenever  I chose  to 
call  upon  his  services.  A vigorous  drumming,  accomplished 
by  several  energetic  tom-tom  beaters  in  the  background,  on 
the  conclusion  of  this  formal  reception-speech,  corroborated 
its  official  importance. 

After  I had  answered  and  thanked  the  mudlyar,  he  in- 
troduced me  to  the  important  personages  in  his  suite : the 
second  head-man,  or  Arachy,  the  collector  of  taxes,  and  the 
doctor,  as  well  as  to  some  of  the  more  distinguished  citi- 
zens of  Belligam,  all  of  whom  assured  me  in  the  friendliest 
manner  that  they  were  ready  to  assist  me  in  any  of  my  un- 
dertakings. These  handsome  promises  were  likewise  con- 
firmed by  the  tom-tom  beaters.  The  doctor  and  the  col- 
lector, both  of  whom  spoke  English  fluently,  interpreted 
the  Singhalese  speeches,  while  their  fellow-townsmen  lis- 
tened with  eager  attention,  and  curiously  inspected  the  new 
arrival  and  his  luggage. 

This  ceremonious  reception  was  all  the  more  amusing 
from  the  fact  that  the  dress  of  the  distinguished  reception 
committee  was  a comical  mixture  of  the  fashions  of  Europe 
and  Ceylon.  The  upper  half  of  the  person  was  clad  ac- 
cording to  the  latest  approved  mode  of  the  former  country, 
and  the  lower  half  in  strict  accordance  with  the  prevailing 
Singhalese  styles.  Beginning  with  the  head,  our  eyes  are 
delighted  by  a “chimney-pot”  hat  of  irreproachable  style 
— of  all  head-gear,  without  a doubt,  the  most  hideous,  as 
well  as  the  most  unpractical,  but  the  Singhalese  chief, 
whose  observant  eye  has  noticed  that  his  European  brother 
on  all  occasions  of  ceremony  considers  a head-covering  of 
this  sort  an  indispensable  emblem  of  his  high  position  as 
gentleman,  would  think  it  an  unpardonable  breach  of  eti- 
quette were  he  to  appear  even  in  the  hottest  weather  without 
the  imposing  “chimney-pot”  when  ceremony  demanded  it. 
His  good-natured  bronze  face,  which  the  narrow-brimmed 


122 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


hat  scarcely  shades,  is  framed  by  a heavy  black  beard 
that  is  cut  away  from  the  chin;  below  it  protrude  the 
points  of  a voluminous  collar,  around  which  is  elaborately 
knotted  a gorgeous  silk  kerchief.  Nor  is  the  black  “ dress- 
coat,”  with  its  concomitant  white  waistcoat,  missing;  the 
latter  is  profusely  ornamented  with  brilliant  stones  and 
gold  embroidery.  Instead  of  the  customary  trousers,  how- 
ever, the  dusky  official  wears  the  national  covering  for  the 
lower  extremities,  a red  comboy — a wide  apron  that  re- 
minds one  of  the  red  petticoats  worn  by  the  German  peas- 
ant-girls. His  dainty  little  feet  are  either  entirely  bare, 
or  protected  merely  by  sandals. 

After  the  friendly  reception,  which  certainly  promised 
favorably  for  my  stay  in  Belligam,  my  new  protector  led 
the  way  through  the  gate  into  the  pretty  rest-house  garden, 
which  is  enclosed  by  a white  wall.  The  first  sight  of  my 
new  abiding-place  surpassed  my  expectations.  The  rest- 
house  is  a handsome,  one-storied  stone  structure,  with  the 
usual  wide  portico,  white  columns,  and  projecting  red  tile 
roof.  The  broad  green  lawn  stretching  along  the  east  front 
of  the  house  is  ornamented  by  a superb  teak  tree  whose 
columnar  trunk  rises  to  a height  of  eighty  or  ninety  feet. 
Leguminous  climbers  are  twined  about  it  and  hang  in  grace- 
ful festoons  from  the  lofty  branches.  On  the  south  side  of 
the  lawn  a couple  of  cows  are  peacefully  grazing  in  the 
shade  of  the  most  magnificent  bread-fruit  trees,  whose 
gnarled  trunks  and  far-spreading  branches  call  to  mind  the 
finest  oaks  of  our  northern  climate;  but  the  large,  deeply- 
lobed,  dark  green  and  glossy  leaves,  as  well  as  the  huge, 
light  green  fruit,  give  them  a far  more  imposing  appear- 
ance. 

Between  the  umbrageous  crowns  of  these  artocarpus 
giants  is  seen  a smiling  view  of  the  sunny,v  almost  circular 
harbor  of  Belligam,  on  which,  at  the  moment,  are  numerous 
vessels  in  full  sail  returning  from  a fishing  expedition. 
The  rocky  promontory  opposite  (to  the  south)  is  partly 
covered  with  jangle  and  partly  with  cocoa-groves;  the  huts 
of  the  fishing  village  of  Mirissa  dot  its  gleaming  sands.  In 
the  harbor,  scarcely  two  minutes  distant  from  the  rest- 
house,  lies  a charming  rock  islet,  Gan-Duva , entirely  covered 
with  elegant  cocoa- palms. 

Continuing  our  voyage  of  discovery  around  the  rest- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


123 


house,  we  enter  the  fruit  garden,  which  is  filled  with 
laughing  bananas  and  manihots,  and  which  extends  from 
the°west  side  of  the  house  to  a steep  hill.  At  the  foot  of 
the  latter  is  an  out-building  which  contains  the  kitchen, 
and  several  store-rooms  which  will  be  of  great  service  for 
my  collections.  A dense  thicket,  populated  by  apes  and 
parrots,  crowns  the  summit  of  the  hill,  whose  steep  slopes 
are  decked  with  luxuriant  shrubbery  and  a carpet  of  blos- 
soming creepers.  Fascinated  by  the  charming  situation 
and  idyllic  surroundings  of  the  rest-house,  and  eager  to 
inspect  its  interior,  I ascended  the  broad  stone  steps  leading 
to  the  front  entrance.  Here  I was  met  by  another  saluta- 
tory (half  English,  half  Pali)  from  the  steward  of  my  new 
abode,  the  aged  rest-house  keeper.  With  arms  crossed  on 
his  breast,  his  bronze  frame  bent  almost  double,  the  old 
fellow  came  toward  me,  and  in  the  most  submissive  manner 
hoped  I would  he  satisfied  with  the  simple  accommodations 
of  the  rest-house;  whatever  of  rice  and  curry,  of  fruits  and 
fishes  the  village  could  supply,  that  should  be  provided  for 
my  entertainment;  nor  should  there  be  a lack  of  willing 
service.  In  short,  I was  to  have  everything  that  would 
make  me  comfortable  while  I remained  in  Belligam.  All 
this, Jan d much  more  was  handsomely  promised  by  the  old 
man  in  a well-constructed  speech  that  was  flavored  with  a 
number  of  philosophical  phrases.  As  I looked  into  his 
broad,  good-natured  face,  with  its  short,  turned-up  nose, 
small  eyes,  thick  lips,  and  long,  tangled,  silvery  beard, 
there  suddenly  occurred  to  me  the  familiar  bust  of  Socrates 
which  always  recalled  the  head  of  a satyr.  This  resem- 
blance, and  my  inability  to  remember  the  interminable 
Singhalese  name  of  my  host,  caused  me  to  straightway  dub 
him  Socrates.  The  rechristening  was  amply  justified 
later,  for  the  old  man  proved  himself  in  various  ways  a 
worthy  follower  of  his  illustrious  Greek  prototype. 

And  now  it  seemed  as  if  the  familiar  impressions  of 
classic  antiquity  which  greeted  me  on  the  very  threshold 
of  my  idyllic  abode  were  to  continue  to  haunt  me.  When 
Socrates  conducted  me  across  the  portico  into  the  wide 
entrance  hall,  there,  with  arms  uplifted,  in  an  attitude  of 
supplication,  stood  a lovely  nude  bronze  figure  that  could 
be  no  other  than  the  celebrated  statue  of  the  boy  at  prayer, 
the  “ Adorante.”  What  was  my  surprise,  to  see  this  ex- 


124 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


quisite  bronze  image  suddenly  quicken,  drop  its  arms,  kneel 
at  my  feet,  lift  its  eyes  beseechingly  to  my  face,  then  bow 
its  beautiful  head  in  mute  submission  until  the  long  black 
locks  lay  on  the  stone  floor. 

The  boy — so  Socrates  informed  me — who  was  a member 
of  one  of  the  lowest  castes,  the  Eodiya,  had  lost  his  Bar- 
ents when  a mere  child,  and  had  been  befriended  out  of 
compassion  by  the  rest-house  keeper.  He  was  intended 
for  my  personal  service,  and  would  have  nothing  to  do  but 
wait  exclusively  on  me;  he  was  a good-natured  lad,  and 
would  be  sure  to  perform  his  duties  faithfully.  In  answer 
to  my  request  for  the  name  of  my  page,  Socrates  informed 
me  that  it  was,  “Gamameda”  (village-centre:  garna , vil- 
lage; and  meda , centre).  Naturally  Ganymede  instantly 
substituted  itself,  for  a nobler  namesake  of  Jove’s  favorite 
than  this  lithe-limbed,  symmetrical  youth  could  not  have 
been  found.  Besides,  Gamameda  soon  developed  a wonder- 
ful efficiency  as  cup-bearer.  ' He  would  not  allow  any  one 
but  himself  to  open  a cocoanut  for  me,  or  fetch  me  a glass 
of  palm  wine.  I was  therefore  justified  in  changing  his 
name,  as  well  as  that  of  his  master.  Among  the  many 
valued  images  that  animate  my  recollections  of  this  trop- 
ical paradise,  Ganymede  is  one  of  the  most  highly  prized. 
He  not  only  performed  his  menial  duties  with  extreme  con- 
scientiousness and  attention,  but  he  exhibited  an  attach- 
ment for  my  person  and  a readiness  to  serve  me  that  was 
really  touching.  An  unfortunate  member  of  the  Eodiya 
caste,  the  poor  boy  had  from  his  infancy  been  subjected  to 
the  contempt  of  his  fellows,  and  had  been  the  object  of 
constant  unkindness  and  even  cruelty;  with  the  exception 
of  old  Socrates  (who  at  times  also  treated  him  rather 
harshly),  no  one  had  taken  kindly  notice  of  him.  Conse- 
quently my  gentleness  towards  him  from  the  very  first  mo- 
ment was  as  novel  to  him  as  it  was  delightful.  He  was 
specially  grateful  for  the  following  service:  A few  days 
before  my  arrival  he  had  run  a thorn  deep  into  his  foot; 
in  drawing  it  out  a fragment  had  broken  ofi  and  remained 
in  the  wound.  I removed  it  after  considerable  trouble,  and 
treated  the  painful  wound  with  carbolic  acid  so  success- 
fully that  it  healed  in  a short  time.  From  that  hour  the 
grateful  Ganymede  followed  me  like  my  shadow,  and 
sought  to  read  my  wishes  in  my  eyes.  Scarcely  had  I 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


125 


risen  from  my  bed  when  he  was  beside  me  with  a freshly- 
plucked  cocoanut,  from  which  he  offered  me  a delicious 
morning  drink.  At  table  he  never  took  his  eyes  from  my 
face,  and  always  anticipated  my  every  wish.  When  at 
work,  he  would  clean  my  anatomical  instruments  and  the 
microscope  lenses.  But  happy  Ganymede,  when  we  sallied 
out  to  the  cocoa-groves,  or  the  sea-shore,  to  sketch  or  col- 
lect, to  hunt  or  fish.  On  such  occasions,  if  I allowed  him 
to  carry  the  paint-box  or  photographic  camera,  to  sling  the 
gun  or  the  botanical  case  over  his  shoulder,  he  would  strut 
after  me  with  a beaming  face,  and  look  proudly  around  at 
the  wondering  Singhalese,  who  saw  in  him  only  the  de- 
spised Rodiya  slave;  to  them  such  distinction  was  utterly 
incomprehensible.  My  interpreter,  the  grudging  William, 
was  especially  aggrieved,  and  sought  every  opportunity  to 
slander  Ganymede,  but  soon  found  that  I would  not  toler- 
ate any  injury  to  my  favorite.  Many  of  the  handsomest 
and  most  valuable  acquisitions  in  my  collections  I owe  to 
the  untiring  zeal  and  skill  of  this  despised  Rodiya.  With 
the  keen  eye,  dextrous  hand,  and  fleetness  of  motion  com- 
mon to  the  Singhalese  children,  he  knew  how  to  secure  the 
soaring  butterfly  and  the  darting  fish.  When  hunting  in 
the  forest,  he  would  climb  like  a cat  to  tops  of  the  tallest 
trees,  or  dart  through  the  thickest  jungle  with  a nimble- 
ness that  was  truly  marvellous. 

Although  the  Rodiya  caste  to  which  Gamameda  belongs, 
is  of  purely  Ceylonese  origin,  it  is  regarded  by  the  higher 
castes  on  the  island  (notwithstanding  the  fact  that  caste 
distinctions  are  not  so  rigid  here  as  on  the  mainland)  with 
as  much  abhorrence  as  the  Pariahs  in  India.  Its  members 
perform  only  such  labor  as  is  considered  degrading — to 
which,  singularly  enough,  is  reckoned  the  washing  of 
clothes — and  no  Singhalese  of  higher  caste  will  have  any 
association  whatever  with  a Rodiya. 

As  if  kind  mother  nature  wished  to  atone  for  the  unjust 
treatment  of  her  outcast  children,  she  bestows  on  them  not 
only  the  blessing  of  perfect  contentment,  but  endows  them 
with  the  graceful  gift  of  beauty — a benefice  that  may  be 
constantly  admired,  as  the  Rodiyas  wear  only  the  most 
necessary  clothing. 

The  boys  and  young  men,  as  well  as  the  younger  girls, 
are,  on  an  average,  more  beautifully  formed  and  of  nobler 


126 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


feature  than  the  rest  of  the  Singhalese — circumstances 
which  perhaps  account  for  the  envy  and  hatred  of  the 
higher  castes. 

As  a general  thing  the  stronger  sex  in  Ceylon  is  also  the 
handsomer,  especially  the  youths,  whose  noble  Aryan  fea- 
tures are  distinguished  by  a certain  dreaminess  of  expres- 
sion that  is  very  attractive.  Their  delicate  mouths  are 
particularly  beautiful,  while  their  dark,  soulful  eyes  are 
eloquent  with  promises  their  dull  brains  are  unable  to  ful- 
fil; added  to  these  perfections  is  a perfectly  oval  face  framed 
by  luxuriant  raven  tresses.  As  neither  boys  nor  girls  wear 
clothes  until  their  eighth  or  ninth  year — or  at  most  only  a 
narrow  cloth  around  the  loins — they  furnish  the  most  suit- 
able “life”  for  the  Eden-like  landscape;  and  the  traveler 
frequently  imagines  he  sees  before  him  an  animated  Greek 
god.  Ransonnet,  on  Plate  IV.,  in  his  work  on  Ceylon,  has 
a sketch  of  a fourteen-year-old  Siniapu  boy  that  illustrates 
Aie  characteristics  above  mentioned.  Ganymede  is  very 
like  the  sketch,  only  his  features  are  even  more  delicate  and 
girlish,  and  remind  one  of  the  lovely  face  of  Mignon. 

In  old  age  the  charm  of  this  mild  and  attractive  phy- 
siognomy is  entirely  lost — especially  is  this  the  case  with 
the  gentler  sex — and  a certain  harsh  expression  or  dulness 
takes  its  place.  Frequently  the  bones  of  the  face  protrude, 
and  give  it  anything  but  a pleasing  appearance.  A con- 
spicuous illustration  of  this  peculiar  deformity  was  old 
Babua,  the  third  personality  presented  to  me  in  the  rest- 
house  of  Belligam,  in  the  character  of  its  cook.  The  lean 
old  fel  'ow  with  his  shrivelled  limbs  Sore  no  resemblance 
whatever  to  the  rotund,  corpulent  personage  who  reigns  in 
the  kitchens  of  our  imagination.  He  was  more  like  the 
quadrumanous  ancestors  of  man,  and  when  the  wide  mouth 
in  the  skinny  brown  face  was  distended  by  a grinning 
smile  the  resemblance  to  an  old  ape  became  all  the  more 
striking.  It  was  therefore  a comical  coincidence  that 
Babidn  should  be  the  systematic  name  of  a branch  of  the 
ape  family  ( Cynocephalus  babuiri).  Moreover,  the  old 
fellow,  with  his  powerful  under  jaw,  and  low,  receding  fore- 
head (perhaps  from  negro  blood  in  his  veins)  was  a very 
harmless  and  good-natured  creature.  His  ambition  was 
satisfied  if  he  succeeded  in  discovering  a new  kind  of  curry 
as  a concomitant  to  the  dish  of  rice  he  daily  set  before  me, 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


127 


and  I praised  the  mess.  I could  have  wished  that  he — as 
well  as  old  Socrates — would  have  paid  more  attention  to 
cleanliness  in  the  primitive  kitchen. 

To  the  three  permanent  occupants  of  the  rest-house  w~as 
added  a fourth  ministering  spirit  in  the  person  of  William, 
my  interpreter,  whom  I had  brought  with  me  from  Galle. 
My  English  friends  in  the  latter  place  had  urged  me  to 
hire  several  servants:  one  to  act  as  interpreter,  one  to  assist 
me  hunt,  a valet,  etc.,  etc.;  but,  having  seen  quite  enough 
of  the  trouble  and  vexation  a retinue  of  hirelings  can  cre- 
ate for  their  master,  I did  not  take  kindly  to  such  a divi- 
sion of  labor.  I was  very  glad,  therefore,  to  find  that  Will- 
iam could  combine  the  functions  of  interpreter,  huntsman, 
valet,  and  assistant  in  general.  He  had  been  a soldier,  had 
served  in  the  capacity  of  body-servant  to  an  officer — and 
that  he  had  done  it  well  was  conclusively  proved  by  docu- 
mentary evidence — was  a tolerably  skilful  and  willing  fel- 
low. Being  a pure-blood  Singhalese,  however,  he  was  en- 
dowed with  the  national  aversion  to  work  in  general  and 
manual  toil  in  particular;  he  considered  it  mere  prudence 
and  wisdom  to  expend  on  every  task  he  was  called  upon  to 
perform  as  much  time  and  as  little  energy  as  possible.  All 
his  interests  and  ambition- — like  most  of  the  Singhalese 
youths — were  centred  in  the  artistic  arrangement  of  his 
coiffure.  To  wash  and  comb,  to  dry  and  oil  his  long  black 
hair,  then  to  twist  it  into  a perfectly  regular  coil,  and  fasten 
it  with  a large  tortoise-shell  comb  at  the  back  of  his  head, 
was  for  William  a most  important  six-act  drama,  for  the 
performance  of  which  several  hours  every  morning  were  re- 
quired. To  recover  from  the  exhaustion  to  which  these 
arduous  exertions  always  reduced  him,  an  additional  hour 
or  two  was  of  course  necessary.  His  duties  as  interpreter 
and  valet  were  performed  with  scrupulous  care;  but  he 
would  indignantly  refuse  to  degrade  himself  by  labor  which 
required  a great  amount  of  physical  exertion:  on  such  oc- 
casions he  would  assure  me  with  extreme  hauteur  that  he 
was  no  “cooly.”  His  trifling  domestic  tasks  were  per- 
formed with  tolerable  neatness  and  dispatch,  and  he  was 
always  ready  and  willing  to  assist  me  with  the  microscope. 

The  fair  and  curious  reader  will  doubtless  inquire  why  I 
have  not  mentioned  the  feminine  inhabitants  of  the  Belli- 
gam  rest-house.  Unfortunately  I am  unable  to  say  any- 


128 


INDIA  AND  CETLON. 


tiling  about  them,  for  the  simple  reason  that  there  were 
none  there.  Not  only  the  cook,  Babua,  and  the  house- 
keeper, Socrates,  and  the  maid,  William,  but  the  laundress 
that  fetched  my  clothes  every  week,  to  beat  them  on  the 
stones  in  the  river,  all  were  of  the  masculine  gender,  as 
are  most  of  the  servants  in  India.  Nor  was  there  much  to 
be  seen  of  the  fairer  sex  in  Weligama — but  of  this  more 
hereafter. 


XL 

A Zoological  Laboratory  11*  Ceylon. 

My  first  task  in  Belligam  was,  with  the  assistance  of  the 
four  ministering  spirits,  to  establish  myself  as  comfortably 
as  possible  in  the  rest-house,  and  to  set  up  a zoological  lab- 
oratory. The  house  contained  three  spacious  apartments, 
of  which  the  middle  one — the  dining-room — served  as  sit- 
ting-room for  the  casual  guests  (especially  for  the  govern- 
ment officials  who  might  happen  to  patronize  the  house); 
a large  dining-table,  two  benches,  and  several  chairs  com- 
pleted the  furnishing.  The  large  rooms  adjoining  the  din- 
ing-saloon on  either  side  were  guest-chambers  with  huge 
Indian  bedsteads,  in  which  the  restless  dreamer  might  on 
his  own  axis  comfortably  describe  a complete  circle  with- 
out touching  the  edges  with  his  toes.  The  voluminous 
mosquito  nets  stretched  over  them  doubtless  once  rendered 
excellent  service,  but  at  present  only  the  evidences  of 
past  utility  remained.  I found  the  mattresses  also  in  a 
condition  that  rendered  it  advisable  for  me  to  adopt  the 
native  fashion  of  sleeping  on  palm  mats.  In  addition  to 
the  giant  bedsteads  in  the  guest-chambers,  there  was  a 
small  table  with  the  necessary  toilet  appliances,  and  a cou- 
ple of  chairs.  The  long  windows  in  the  white  walls  were, 
as  everywhere  in  the  tropics,  without  glass,  but  could  be 
closed  by  the  green  wooden  jalousies.  The  floor  was  laid 
with  flagstones.  I selected  the  lighter  chamber  facing 
die  south,  from  which,  through  the  door  opening  on  a 
veranda,  there  was  a lovely  view  of  the  harbor.  I would 
have  preferred  to  use  this  room  solely  as  a work  room  and 
zoological  laboratory,  and  the  one  facing  north  as  a sitting 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


129 


and  bedroom;  but  one  of  them  had  to  be  reserved  for  trav- 
elers. The  primitive  simplicity  of  the  rest-house  furnish- 
ing compelled  me  to  provide  some  additional  and  absolutely 
necessary  household  articles,  without  which  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  me  to  accomplish  my  work. 

First  of  all  I required  large  tables  and  benches,  as  well 
as  cupboards  and  chests  of  drawers.  To  procure  these 
was  by  no  means  an  easy  task,  and  although  my  new 
friends  assisted  me.  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  my  labora- 
tory, when  at  last  ready  for  occupation,  lacked  many 
things.  The  first  chief  had  supplied  me  with  boards 
which,  when  laid  on  my  empty  boxes,  served  as  shelves  for 
bottles  and  jars.  The  second  chief  gave  me  two  old  tables. 
The  tax-gatherer  (who,  by  the  way,  was  a very  polite  and 
accomplished  person)  loaned  me  a pair  of  small  cupboards, 
in  which  I could  lock  my  valuable  instruments,  chemicals 
and  poisons.  The  schoolmaster  furnished  a set  of  small 
book-shelves,  and  in  this  manner  the  laboratory  was  made 
tolerably  practicable  for  my  purpose  by  the  worthy  Belli- 
gamians,  who  desired  nothing  in  payment  for  the  small  fa- 
vors but  the  privilege  of  satisfying  their  curiosity.  This, 
however,  soon  assumed  such  enormous  proportions  that  it 
became  extremely  annoying  and  robbed  me  of  much  valu- 
able time. 

Aside  from  these  most  necessary  household  articles 
(which  are  considered  superfluous  luxuries  by  most  of  the 
Singhalese),  I could  procure  little  or  nothing  that  would 
be  of  use  to  me  in  Belligam;  I was  therefore  heartily  glad 
that  I had  brought  from  Europe  all  the  requirements  for 
my  domestic  economy,  as  well  as  for  my  zoological  investi- 
gations. True,  there  was  in  the  village  a so-called  carpen- 
ter, also  a species  of  locksmith  whose  services  I might 
frequently  have  required.  But  the  primitive  character  of 
their  tools  sufficiently  proved  the  quality  of  workmanship 
I might  expect  from  them. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  I would  have  to  do  everything 
for  myself,  for  every  time  I called  one  of  these  Singhalese 
artisans  to  my  aid  I was  obliged  to  remodel  his  work  from 
the  very  beginning.  As  for  letting  them  attempt  to  repair 
any  of  my  instruments — and  unfortunately  they  frequently 
needed  it — it  was  entirely  out  of  the  question. 

However,  in  spite  of  all  hindrances  I succeeded  in  a few 


130 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


days  in  transforming  the  roomy  guest-chamber  into  a 
fairly  comfortable  laboratory  adequate  to  the  requirements 
of  our  modern  marine  zoology.  Microscopes  and  anatomi- 
cal instruments  were  adjusted;  a dozen  large  and  several 
hundred  small  vials  and  jars  were  methodically  arranged  in 
rows  on  the  shelves;  the  alcohol  was  decanted  and  the  taste 
disguised  with  oil  of  turpentine,  to  preserve  it  from  the 
bibulous  inclinations  of  my  servants.  One  of  the  two  cup- 
boards contained  the  domestic  apothecary  shop,  as  well  as 
some  fire-arms,  ammunition,  and  the  “magician’s  kitch- 
en,” which  comprised  the  different  micro-chemicals,  photo- 
graphic appliances,  poisons  for  preparing  and  preserving 
animals,  etc.  In  the  other  cupboard  were  stored  books, 
papers,  drawing  materials,  oil  and  water  colors,  and  a 
number  of  valuable  and  fragile  instruments.  The  legs  of 
these  two  cupboards,  as  well  as  those  of  the  tables,  stood  in 
earthen  vessels,  which  were  filled  with  water  to  protect 
them  from  the  incursions  of  destructive  ants  and  termites. 
Nets  and  fishing  appliances  occupied  one  corner  of  the 
room;  guns  and  botanical  cases  another;  in  the  third  stood 
the  soldering  apparatus  and  tin  boxes;  while  the  fourth 
corner  was  entirely  taken  up  by  the  huge  bedstead  which, 
during  the  day,  served  as  a work  table. 

Along  the  walls  were  ranged  the  empty  chests  for  the 
collections,  as  well  as  the  tin  boxes  which  contained  my 
wearing  apparel.  Above  them  nails  were  driven  into  the 
wall  on  which  to  hang  the  barometer,  thermometer,  scales, 
and  a number  of  articles  of  daily  use.  Thus,  in  a few  days 
the  rest-house  of  Belligam  was  made  to  look  like  the  ma- 
rine laboratory  I had  established  for  a six  months’  sojourn 
in  Messina  twenty- two  years  ago,  and  like  the  one  on  the 
Canary  Island  of  Lanzarote  fifteen  years  ago — with  this  differ- 
ence: My  zoological  and  artistic  outfits  this  time  were  more 
complete  and  varied,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  comforts 
of  my  domestic  economy  were  much  simpler  and  of  a more 
primitive  character.  However,  I was  consoled  for  the  lack 
of  many  conveniences,  by  the  fact  that  I was  only  six  de- 
grees distant  from  the  equator,  and  that  no  one  in  Ceylon 
had  ever  before  enjoyed  the  use  of  so  fine  a laboratory  for 
marine  zoology — a thought  that  made  me  all  the  more 
eager  to  begin  work. 

The  difficulties  which  attend  labor  of  this  sort  in  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


131 


tropics,  especially  the  subtle  investigation  of  the  structure 
and  development  of  the  lower  marine  fauna,  are  recognized 
and  deplored  by  all  the  naturalists  that  have  undertaken 
such  tasks  in  the  last  decades.  Consequently,  I was  pre- 
pared to  meet  with  hindrances,  but  soon  found  that  they 
were  infinitely  greater  and  of  a more  varied  character  than 
I had  imagined.  Not  only  the  excessively  hot  and  moist 
climate  with  all  its  destructive  influences,  but  existence  in 
an  uncultured  village,  among  a half-civilized  people,  as  well 
as  a lack  of  many  accustomed  conveniences  of  civilization, 
offer  a thousand  obstructions  to  the  investigation  and  col- 
lecting of  natural  curiosities. 

I often  thought  regretfully  of  the  many  advantages  and 
conveniences  which  I had  enjoyed  while  engaged  in  zoolog- 
ical studies  on  the  Mediterranean  shore,  and  which  would 
be  so  sorely  missed  here. 

One  of  the  greatest  difficulties  was  to  find  a serviceable 
boat,  as  well  as  skilled  fishermen  to  man  it.  The  peculiar 
canoes  which  attracted  my  notice  when  I arrived  at  Co- 
lombo, and  which  have  already  been  described,  are  the 
only  kind  in  use  along  the  Ceylon  coast,  except,  of  course, 
in  the  harbors  of  the  larger  cities.  These  canoes,  which 
are  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  feet  long,  are  so  narrow 
that  a grown  person  sitting  in  them  cannot  place  his  feet 
side  by  side.  Consequently  you  are  wedged  as  it  were  into 
these  boats,  which  are  aptly  described  as  “leg-pinchers” 
by  my  friend  Professor  H.  Vogel  of  Berlin,  who  has  had 
occasion  to  use  them.  Another  fault  with  these  canoes  is 
the  characteristic  outrigger  which,  while  it  lends  security 
to  the  craft  and  prevents  it  from  upsetting,  also  prevents 
it  from  turning  quickly,  and  compels  you  to  keep  one  side 
of  the  canoe  always  towards  the  shore,  or  the  object  you 
wish  to  approach.  There  is  no  rudder,  and  the  propelling 
power  is  an  oar  which  is  used  by  the  oarsman  sitting  in  the 
end  of  the  canoe,  first  on  one  side  (lien  on  the  other.  The 
smaller  canoes  are  manned  by  two,  and  the  larger  ones  by 
four  or  six  natives.  In  addition  to  the  oar  there  is  a low 
mast,  to  which  is  attached  a large  four-cornered  sail.  The 
latter  renders  excellent  service  in  a fair  wind,  when  the 
light  canoe,  whose  narrow  beam  offers  little  resistance  to  the 
waves,  glides  like  an  arrow  across  the  water.  I have  fre- 
quently traveled  ten  or  twelve  miles  in  an  hour  in  one  of 


132 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


these  outrigger  canoes — as  rapidly  as  in  a swift  stean  shin. 
Should  the  wind  blow  too  vigorously,  so  that  the  boat  ca- 
reens too  much  to  one  side,  the  nimble  boatmen  clamber 
with  ape-like  dexterity  along  the  slender  outriggers,  and 
squat  on  the  balance-log  to  give  it  additional  weight. 

To  dispose  of  a chest  containing  large  glass  jars,  and  the 
different  instruments  required  to  secure  pelagic  marine 
animals — especially  medusa — in  such  a craft  was,  of  course, 
impossible.  I was  therefore  obliged  to  construct  a sort  of 
platform  on  the  canoe,  on  which  I might  sit  comfortably 
or  move  freely  about.  On  either  end  of  the  platform  were 
the  chests,  containing  bottles  and  jars  of  all  sizes,  securely 
fastened  with  coir  ropes.  Kopes  of  the  same  material  are 
used  to  lash  together  the  different  parts  of  the  canoe;  in- 
deed, the  natives  in  building  their  boats  use  neither  iron 
nor  nails — only  wood  and  cocoa  fibre. 

In  effecting  these  improvements  in  my  canoe,  as  well  as 
in  hiring  and  instructing  the  native  boatmen,  I was  greatly 
assisted  by  the  second  head  man  of  Belligam,  the  Arachy, 
Abnyawira , to  whom  I am  further  indebted  for  other  valu- 
able services. 

The  government  agent  of  the  South  Province  had  told 
me  about  the  Arachy’s  superior  qualifications,  and  had  spe- 
cially recommended  me  to  his  favor.  I found  him  an  un- 
usually intelligent  and  enterprising  Singhalese  of  perhaps 
forty  years,  whose  interests  and  information  lifted  him  far 
above  the  majority  of  his  countrymen.  There  was  none  of 
that  stupid  indifference  which  characterizes  most  of  the 
Singhalese,  about  the  Arachy.  He  was  keenly  interested 
in  education,  and  sought  by  every  means  in  his  power  to 
further  its  advantages  among  his  people.  He  spoke  Eng- 
lish fairly  well,  and  expressed  himself  with  a clearness  and 
intelligence  that  frequently  astonished  me.  Indeed  the 
Arachy  was  even  a philosopher — of  a.higher  grade  than  old 
Socrates  at  the  rest-house — and  I remember  with  great  plea- 
sure the  many  and  frequently  very  complex  arguments  we 
used  to  have  on  widely  different  subjects.  Free  from  the 
superstitions  and  dread  of  spectres  common  to  his  Buddhist 
countrymen,  and  with  a ready  glance  for  the  wonders  of 
nature  and  their  explanation  by  natural  causes,  the  Arachy 
had  developed  into  an  independent  free-thinker,  and  was 
delighted  when  he  found  that  I was  able  to  solve  many  of 


V 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


133 


the  problems  which  had  sorely  puzzled  him.  I can  see  him 
now,  the  dignified,  handsome,  bronze-hued  man,  with  his  ex- 
pressive and  regular  features  ! How  his  black  eyes  sparkled 
with  intelligence  when  I elucidated  some  natural  phenome- 
non, and  how  his  soft  persuasive  tones  would  plead  for  fur- 
ther enlightenment  on  this  or  that  problematical  question! 
In  him  I found  all  the  good  and  commendable  qualities  of 
the*  Singhalese  character,  the  gentle  manner  and  natural 
reserve,  developed  in  their  most  attractive  form;  and  when 
I people  the  verdant  paradise  of  my  recollections  with  the 
slender  forms  of  its  native  inhabitants,  the  Arachy  and 
Ganymede  ever  appear  side  by  side  as  ideal  types  of  that 
enchanted  realm.  The  Arachy’s  nephew,  a well-informed 
young  man  of  seventeen  years  or  more,  a student  in  the 
Colombo  normal  school,  who  was  spending  his  vacation  at 
Belli  gam,  was  also  a very  useful  and  agreeable  companion. 
Assisted  by  him  and  the  Arachy  I was  able  to  secure  four 
of  the  best  and  most  skilful  fishermen  in  Belligam.  I paid 
them  five  rupees  for  every  expedition,  and  when  they  were 
required  to  dive  to  the  coral  banks,  or  when  we  were  out  on 
the  water  over  half  a day,  I always  added  a couple  of  rupees 
to  the  sum  agreed  upon.  At  first  I experienced  considera- 
ble trouble  with  my  uninitiated  assistants,  and  when  I 
dragged  the  fine-meshed  pelagic  net  along  the  surface  of 
the  water,  or  showed  them  the  tiny  medusae  and  polyps, 
the  siphonophora  and  ctenophora,  to  secure  which  was  evi- 
dently my  main  object,  their  looks  plainly  indicated  that 
they  thought  me  a lunatic.  However,  they  gradually,  and 
with  commendable  patience  and  indulgence,  learned  what 
it  was  I wanted,  and  then  became  quite  as  eager  to  enrich 
my  collection  with  rare  and  beautiful  specimens  as  I was 
myself.  Two  of  the  men  were  especially  useful  in  diving 
to  the  coral  banks;  to  their  perseverance  and  ingenuity  I 
am  indebted  for  many  of  the  lovely  corals  and  curious  ani- 
mals native  to  the  submarine  gardens  which  I brought 
with  me  from  Belligam. 

But  a more  formidable  obstruction  to  my  pelagic  fishing 
• ban  the  canoe  and  its  crew,  was  presented  by  the  tropical 
climate — that  relentless  and  invincible  enemy  of  the  natural- 
ist, who  frustrates  so  many  of  his  designs  and  baffles  so 
many  of  his  undertakings.  This  I was  destined  to  experi- 
ence the  very  first  time  I fished  for  marine  treasures  in  the 


134 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON j 


bay  at  Belligam.  Detained  by  the  numerous  arrangements 
I was  obliged  to  make  for  the  expedition,  I was  not  ready 
to  depart  for  the  fishing  ground  until  nine  o’clock.  By 
that  time  the  merciless  tropical  sun  burned  in  the  deep 
blue  cloudless  heavens  with  a radiance  that  transformed 
the  perfectly  smooth  surface  of  the  water  into  a gleaming 
mirror.  The  glare  was  intolerable  to  the  eyes,  and  I was 
compelled  to  put  on  blue  goggles  if  I wanted  to  keep  them 
open.  Hoping  to  find  the  temperature  several  degrees 
lower  on  the  water  I ordered  my  men  to  row  quickly  out ; 
but  the  intense  heat  seemed  rather  to  increase  than  dimin- 
ish, while  the  dazzling  mirror,  unstirred  by  a breath  of  air, 
seemed  a vast  expanse  of  molten  lead.  Bathed  in  perspir- 
ation I fished  for  perhaps  an  hour  when  I became  perfectly 
exhausted.  My  strength  deserted  me,  there  was  a hum- 
ming in  my  ears,  while  the  increasing  pressure  on  my  tem- 
ples made  me  apprehensive  of  sunstroke.  As  my  clothes 
were  already  wringing  wet  with  perspiration,  I decided  to 
try  a remedy  that  had  given  me  instant  relief  on  similar 
occasions.  I dashed  a couple  of  pailfuls  of  sea  water  over 
my  head,  and  covered  it  with  a wet  towel,  on  which  I 
fastened  my  wide-brimmed  sola  hat.  The  result  of  this 
treatment  was  satisfactory,  and  I afterwards  had  recourse 
to  it  whenever  the  oppressive  heat  caused  a return  of  the 
stupefying  headache.  With  the  water  and  the  atmosphere 
both  at  a temperature  of  22-26°  R.  such  a drenching  of 
the  head  with  vaporable  water  is  very  beneficial.  Even  the 
wearing  of  wet  clothes  for  several  hours,  which  in  our  cool 
climate  would  give  one  a serious  cold,  is  here  as  pleasant  as 
it  is  harmless. 

The  first  expedition  on  the  Bay  of  Belligam  convinced 
me  that  it  abounded  in  pelagic  animals  of  widely  dissimi- 
lar classes.  The  jars  into  which  the  swimming  inhabitants 
of  the  surface  water  were  emptied  from  the  gauze  net  were 
quite  full  after  a few  hours’  fishing.  Among  thousands  of 
infinitesimal  crabs  and  salpce  floated  delicate  medusae  and 
siphonophora;  multitudes  of  snail  and  mussel  larvae  glided, 
by  means  of  their  dainty  streamers,  among  fluttering 
sea-butterflies  and  Pteropoda;  while  hundreds  of  coral  and 
crustacean  larvae  were  falling  prey  to  rapacious  arrow- 
worms.  ( Sagitta ).  The  majority  of  these  organisms  are 
colorless  and  of  the  crystalline  transparency  of  the  sea- 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


135 


water  in  which  they  struggle  desperately  for  existence. 
(According  to  Darwin’s  theory  of  selection,  the  transpar- 
ent condition  of  these  pelagic  “glass-animals”  is  the  re- 
sult of  this  struggle  for  existence.) 

Although  some  of  the  species  found  here  were  new  to 
me,  I was  familiar  with  most  of  the  genera,  for  the  prolific 
Mediterranean — especially  the  famous  Strait  of  Messina — 
furnishes  just  such  pelagic  curiosities  when  the  conditions 
are  favorable  for  surface-water  fishing.  Still,  among  the 
old  acquaintances  I met  with  in  the  Bay  of  Belligam,  I no- 
ticed a number  of  new  and  attractive  forms  that  provoked 
immediate  microscopic  observation.  Consequently  I ordered 
my  men  to  row  quickly  back  to  the  shore,  and  while  we  were 
scudding  through  the  water  I devoted  myself  to  an  exam- 
ination my  newly-acquired  treasures.  To  my  great  disap- 
pointment I found  at  least  half  of  the  delicate  captives  dead 
and  dying;  some  were  overtaken  by  death  in  half  an  hour, 
others  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes  after  they  were  taken 
from  the  bay.  Their  crystal  bodies  speedily  clouded,  and 
formed  a white  powdery  mass  on  the  bottom  of  the  jars, 
and  before  we  reached  the  shore  I could  detect  the  peculiar 
odor  which  proceeds  from  gelatinous  bodies  in  a state  of 
decomposition.  In  the  Mediterranean,  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, death  is  not  followed  by  decomposition  until 
after  a period  of  five  to  ten  hours;  here,  with  a higher 
temperature  by  several  degrees  it  took  place  in  half  an 
hour’s  time.  Alarmed  by  this  discovery  I hastened  our  re- 
turn to  the  land  which  we  reached  shortly  before  twelve 
o’clock.  Here  another  difficulty  presented  itself:  notwith- 
standing the  midday  sun’s  fierce  heat,  almost  the  entire 
population  of  Belligam  was  assembled  on  the  strand  to 
learn  the  result  of  my  extraordinary  method  of  fishing. 
Each  one  of  the  dusky  throng  wanted  to  see  what  I had 
caught,  and  wanted  to  know  what  I was  going  to  do  with 
it — or,  rather,  in  what  shape  I was  going  to  devour  it;  for, 
that  sea-creatures  were  captured  for  any  other  purpose  than 
a dietary  one  of  course  never  entered  their  heads.  Conse- 
quently the  amazement  of  the  inquisitive  natives,  among 
whom  I made  my  wray  with  great  difficulty,  was  by  no 
means  small  when  they  beheld  merely  the  white  sediment 
on  the  bottom  of  the  large  glass  jars,  and  the  few  tiny  pe- 
lagic creatures  that  were  still  actively  disporting  themselves 


136 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


in  their  new  quarters.  Afterwards  the  Arachy  informed 
me  that  his  fellow  citizens  could  not  understand,  or  in- 
deed believe,  that  I was  engaged  in  merely  scientific  work; 
most  of  them  detected  behind  all  this  mysterious  business 
some  sort  of  witchcraft,  the  preparing  of  magic  potions, 
etc,  while  the  realistic  Belligamians  believed  I was  trying 
to  invent  a new  curry.  The  still  more  enlightened  were 
confident  that  I was  simply  a European  lunatic. 

Thus  a valuable  quarter  of  an  hour  was  lost  before  I 
could  force  my  way  through  the  curious  skeptics  to  the 
rest-house,  and — as  was  my  wont — to  sort  and  distribute 
the  thousand  dainty  creatures  in  glass  vessels  of  fresh  water. 

By  this  time  at  least  nine  tenths  of  my  treasures  were 
dead,  and  among  them  the  new  ones  whose  forms  had  par- 
ticularly interested  me.  The  remaining  tenth  were  already 
so  exhausted  that  death  seemed  imminent  at  any  moment, 
and  in  a few  hours  my  jars  were  in  fact  nothing  but  huge 
receptacles  for  pelagic  corpses ! The  following  days  I 
sought  by  every  means  to  counteract  the  fatal  influence  of 
the  tropical  sun,  but  was  only  partially  successful.  It  was 
simply  impossible  to  maintain  the  necessary  low  tempera- 
ture of  the  water.  I was  convinced  that  the  first  and  most 
important  requirements  for  the  successful  observation  of 
marine  fauna  in  so  hot  a country  as  Ceylon  would  be  cool 
rooms  and  refrigerating  water  vessels.  As  large  quanti- 
ties of  ice,  which  was  formerly  imported  from  North  Amer- 
ica, are  now  manufactured  in  Colombo  by  an  artificial 
process  at  much  less  expense,  it  would  not  be  a very  diffi- 
cult matter  to  arrange  cool  apartments,  and  refrigerated 
aquaria.  But  a considerable  sum  of  money  would  be  nec- 
essary for  such  a project,  and  that  is  not  at  my  disposal. 
A second  important  requirement  for  successful  zoological 
study  in  these  refrigerated  work-rooms  would  be  glass  win- 
dows— conveniences  which  are  almost  entirety  unknown  in 
Ceylon. 

In  the  rest-house  at  Belligam,  as  well  as  in  all  the  dwell- 
ings on  the  island,  their  place  is  supplied  by  wooden  shut- 
ters or  jalousies,  at  the  top  of  which,  as  well  as  along  the 
edges  of  the  ceiling,  and  above  the  doors,  are  wide  spaces 
to  admit  the  air.  For  the  purpose  of  ventilation  these 
openings  are  of  course  very  practical  and  comfortable,  but 
for  the  naturalist,  who  is  obliged  to  use  a microscope,  they 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON \ 


137 


are  as  objectionable  as  detrimental.  All  sorts  of  winged 
and  creeping  insects  have  free  ingress;  the  most  trouble- 
some are  the  swarms  of  flies,  gnats,  ants,  and  termites. 
Then  the  draught  wafts  your  papers  about,  covers  the  instru- 
ments with  dust,  and  frequently  a more  vigorous  breeze  dis- 
places everything  in  the  room.  No  less  detrimental  are  the 
jalousies  themselves  to  a good  light  which  is  one  of  the 
most  important  requisites  for  microscopic  examinations — 
especially  when  it  is  necessary  to  increase  the  magnifying 
power.  Very  often  the  condition  of  the  sun  and  wind 
made  it  impossible  for  me  to  find  a suitable  corner  for  my 
work-table — either  in  the  darkened  room,  or  on  the  all-too- 
breezy  veranda,  whose  wide,  projecting  roof  was  also  a de- 
cidedly objectionable  feature. 

To  these  and  various  other  local  obstructions  to  zoologi- 
cal study,  may  be  added  the  annoyances  arising  from  the 
curiosity  of  my  neighbors.  Never  having  seen  any  of  the 
wonderful  instruments  I had  brought  to  their  village,  the 
worthy  Belligamians  naturally  wanted  to  know  all  about 
them,  what  they  were  intended  for,  and  how  I used  them. 
In  short,  everything  I did  was  for  them  a continual  source 
of  amusement.  Like  all  semi-civilized  peoples,  the  Sin- 
ghalese are  in  many  respects  mere  children.  Beneficent  na- 
ture has  made  the  conditions  of  their  paradisal  island  so 
favorable  that  the  struggle  for  existence  on  it  is  compara- 
tively easy,  while  actual  toil  is  almost  unknown.  Innocent 
games  and  chatter  form  their  principal  amusements,  conse- 
quently every  new  object  becomes  a source  of  interest.  The 
loo-frequent  visits  of  my  inquisitive  neighbors  at  last  became 
such  an  intolerable  nuisance  that  I was  obliged  to  speak  of 
it  to  some  of  the  more  important  personages  in  the  village. 
Steps  were  at  once  taken  to  remedy  the  evil;  the  masses 
were  excluded  from  the  rest-house,  but  the  visits  of  the  im- 
portant personages  before  mentioned  became  all  the  more 
frequent  and  of  longer  duration.  The  “doctor”  was  es- 
pecially interested  in  my  microscope;  the  “tax-gatherer” 
took  a wonderful  fancy  to  my  paint-box;  the  “ magistrate” 
professed  great  ad  miration -for  the  anatomical  instruments 
(as  implements  of  torture,  perhaps  !);  the  “schoolmaster” 
liked  to  examine  my  books,  and  so  on.  Everything  I 
owned  was  felt,  tested,  and  examined  a thousand  times,  and 
quite  as  many  nonsensical  questions  asked  about  each  arti- 


138 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


cle.  Seeing  how  intensely  curious  my  constantly  increas- 
ing collections  made  the  worthy  Belligamians,  I undertook 
to  satisfy  what  I believed  to  be  an  earnest  desire  for  infor- 
mation. At  stated  hours  on  certain  days  I delivered  a se- 
ries of  formal  lectures  with  copious  illustrations— an  expe- 
dient which  had  been  employed  with  flattering  success 
while  fishing  on  the  Mediterranean — but  my  native  audi- 
ences would  not  believe  half  I told  them,  nor  would  they 
try  to  understand  what  1 took  great  pains  to  explain.  I 
soon  became  convinced  that  the  childish  inquisitiveness  of 
the  Singhalese  had  not  yet  developed  into  a true  desire  for 
knowledge,  and  that  the  causative  coherence  of  phenomena 
had  very  little  attraction  for  these  innocent  children  ! 

It  would  weary  the  reader  were  I to  enumerate  allt  he 
hindrances  that  opposed  my  zoological  labors  in  the  primi- 
tive laboratory  at  Belligam.  Without  the  aid  of  a compe- 
tent European  assistant,  I was  obliged  to  depend  entirely 
on  my  own  exertions,  and  much  valuable  time  was  lost  in 
the  performance  of  extra  work,  which  would  not  have  been 
the  case  had  I been  engaged  in  a similar  task  on  the  Euro- 
pean coast.  Besides,  the  time  I had  to  spend  in  Ceylon 
was  entirely  too  short  for  the  accomplishment  of  what  I had 
originally  intended:  a series  of  coherent  investigations  of 
the  history  of  evolution.  Consequently,  what  I had  at  first 
deplored — that  the  number  of  new  and  peculiar  sea  animals 
in  the  Bay  of  Belligam  was  not  nearly  so  large  as  I had 
expected — proved  in  the  end  a real  consolation.  The  exten- 
sive marine  investigations  of  the  last  twenty  years  (espe- 
cially those  conducted  by  the  Challenger  expedition)  con- 
clusively demonstrate,  that  the  diversity  of  form  among  the 
inhabitants  of  the  different  oceans  is  nothing  like  so  great 
as  the  difference  between  the  inhabitants  of  the  different 
continents.  Of  this  fact  my  own  investigations  at  Belli- 
gam  were  only  additional  proof.  Of  course  1 found  a 
large  number  of  new,  and  some  very  interesting  animal 
forms — chiefly  among  the  lower  divisions  of  marine  fauna — 
radiolarians,  infusoria,  sponges,  corals,  medusae,  and  si- 
phonophora — but  they  only  furnished  further  evidence  that 
the  fauna  of  the  surface-water  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  as  well 
as  that  along  its  shores,  was  closely  allied  to  the  better- 
known  sea-animal  world  of  the  tropical  Pacific  Ocean;  for 
instance,  Philippine  and  Fiji  Islands. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


139 


Other  portions  of  the  Indian  coast  maybe  richer  in  mani- 
fold and  peculiar  sea-animal  forms  than  Ceylon,  but  the 
enormous  quantity  of  rain  which  daily  descends  upon  it 
would  seem  to  me  an  extremely  unfavorable  circumstance. 
While  the  flora  of  the  island  owes  its  wanton  exuberance  to 
these  deluging  rains,  they  offer  various  obstructions  to  the 
development  and  prosperity  of  the  fauna.  The  large 
masses  of  red  earth  which  are  daily  carried  into  the  ocean 
by  the  numerous  streams,  sully  the  purity  of  the  water  and 
diminish  its  saltness,  thus  destroying  the  pure,  transparent 
quality  of  the  seawater,  which  is  one  of  the  first  conditions 
essential  to  the  life  of  many  marine,  and  particularly  pe- 
lagic animals. 

If  in  spite  of  all  hindrances  I amassed  a considerable 
zoological  collection  in  Belligam,  and  brought  back  1o  Jena 
far  more  material  for  study  than  I can  hope  to  master  in 
the  remaining  years  of  my  life,  then  I owe  the  greater  part 
of  it  to  the  indefatigable  zeal  of  my  faithful  Ganymede, 
whose  highest  ambition  was  to  enrich  my  collection  with 
land  and  sea-creatures  of  all  sorts.  Through  his  influence 
a number  of  boys  were  engaged  to  collect  for  me,  and  the 
curiosity-trade  with  these  little  fellows  soon  assumed  a very 
pleasant  as  well  as  profitable  character.  At  stated  periods 
a whole  army  of  nude  graceful  lads  would  wait  on  me  at 
the  rest-house.  One  dusky  little  god  would  bring  a pair 
of  exquisitely-tinted  fishes,  another  a curious  sea-star  or  sea- 
urchin,  a third  would  offer  a huge  black  scorpion  or  mille- 
ped , a fourth  would  display  a pair  of  gorgeous  butterflies  or 
beetles,  and  so  on.  The  entertaining  scenes  always  recalled 
similar  ones  I had  enjoyed  on  the  Mediterranean  shore, 
especially  at  Naples  and  Messina.  But  how  different  the 
behavior  of  the  little  traders  here  and  there!  The  Italian 
boys  extolled  their  wares  in  loud,  noisy  tones,  and  with  na- 
tive eloquence  frequently  delivered  long  and  flowery  speeches 
eulogistic  of  their  perfections.  They  asked  ten  times  as  much 
as  the  articles  were  worth,  and  were  never  satisfied  even 
when  I paid  the  exorbitant  prices  they  demanded.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  little  Singhalese  would  shyly  and  re- 
spectfully lay  their  wares  before  me,  and  wait  in  silence  to 
hear  what  I would  offer  for  them.  As  a general  thing  they 
would  be  satisfied  with  a trifling  coin,  but  they  would  be 
particularly  delighted  when  I gave  them  any  of  the  articles 


140 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


I had  brought  with  me  from  Europe  for  bartering  pur- 
poses. 

Unfortunately,  I had  neither  time  nor  the  appliances 
necessary  to  preserve  all  the  interesting  natural  curiosities  I 
collected  in  this  manner.  Here  again  the  tropical  climate 
and  destructive  insects  presented  insuperable  difficulties — 
especially  when  I attempted  to  dry  anything.  To  thorough- 
ly dry  organic  substances  in  such  a humid  atmosphere  is 
one  of  the  most  difficult  problems,  for  even  the  very  air  is 
filled  with  moisture,  and  a specimen  that  is  already  dry  will 
mould  and  slowly  decompose.  It  is  absolutely  impossible 
to  sufficiently  dry  many  objects.  Although  I hung  the 
skins  of  the  birds  and  mammals  I had  shot  and  taken  so 
much  trouble  to  prepare  in  the  sun  for  weeks,  every  night 
would  thoroughly  drench  them  with  moisture. 

More  hostile  still  to  the  drying  of  natural  curiosities  than 
the  humid  atmosphere,  are  the  legions  of  destructive  in- 
sects. No  place,  no  object,  is  safe  from  these  pests.  Even 
were  there  no  chinks  everywhere  in  the  walls  through  which 
all  sorts  of  creeping  and  flying  beasties,  as  well  as  the  humid 
air,  have  free  ingress,  it  would  still  be  impossible  to  pro- 
tect one’s  self  from  their  attacks.  Nothing  can  withstand 
the  assault  of  their  powerful  jaws;  they  will  force  an  en- 
trance through  anything — the  walls,  the  roof,  and  the  stone 
floor,  which  they  skilfully  undermine.  Frequently  on  ris- 
ing in  the  morning  one  is  astonished  to  find  conical  heaps 
of  earth  which  have  been  flung  up  between  the  flagstones 
during  the  night  by  the  industrious  termite,  or  ant  sappers 
and  miners.  I was  convinced  of  the  energy  and  dispatch 
with  which  these  minute  enemies  accomplish  their  work 
before  the  end  of  my  first  month  in  Belligam.  I had  ac- 
cumulated in  these  four  weeks  a handsome  collection  of 
dried  butterflies  and  beetles,  skins  of  birds  and  mammals, 
curious  fruits  and  specimens  of  woods,  ferns,  and  other  in- 
teresting plants,  and  locked  them — securely,  as  I imagined 
— in  a small  side-room  of  the  rest-house.  Almost  every  day 
I visited  my  treasures,  to  see  whether  the  enemy  had  made 
any  inroads  upon  them,  and  took  good  care  always  to  de- 
stroy the  advance-guard  of  the  termite  and  ant  armies  I 
might  find  reconnoitring  on  my  territory.  By  generous 
applications  of  camphor,  naphtha,  and  carbolic  acid  I im- 
agined I had  sufficiently  protected  my  treasures  to  leave 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


141 


them  for  a few  days,  as  an  excursion  to  a distant  point,  and 
some  urgent  work  would  require  my  attention  for  that 
length  of  time.  How  startled  was  I when  at  the  end  of 
the  third  day  I entered  my  well-protected  museum,  and 
found  most  of  my  treasures  transformed  into  heaps  of  dust 
and  mould!  A dozen  regiments  of  large  red  ants  had1 
forced  an  entrance  through  the  roof,  several  divisions  of 
small  black  ants  had  entered  through  the  walls,  while  a le- 
gion of  termites  had  come  up  through  the  floor,  and  made 
a combined  assault  that  resulted  most  disastrously  for  my 
collection! 

From  that  moment  I gave  up  collecting  dried  curiosities, 
and  turned  my  attention  to  preserving  in  alcohol  or  Wick- 
ersheim  fluid.  The  latter,  which  has  been  extolled  beyond 
its  actual  merits,  proved  utterly  useless.  Even  with  alco- 
hol I experienced  considerable  difficulty,  for  the  supply  I 
had  brought  from  Europe  was  soon  exhausted,  and  the  do- 
mestic arrack  (which  is  prepared  by  the  natives)  is  of  very 
inferior  quality.  The  better  alcohol  obtainable  in  the  larger 
cities  is  so  very  expensive — on  account  of  the  high  tax  on 
spirits — that  I used  it  only  in  small  quantities.  Besides, 
much  of  my  pleasure  in  these  alcohol  collections  was  spoiled 
by  the  disagreeable  task  of  soldering  the  tin  cases.  Al- 
though the  art  is  very  simple — in  theory — its  practice  is 
attended  by  considerable  difficulty,  especially  in  so  primi- 
tive a village  as  Belligam.  With  the  temperature  at  22° 
or  24°  K.  it  was  actual  torture  to  bend  one’s  perspiring  face 
over  a red-hot  stick  of  solder.  I shudder  when  I think  of 
the  disagreeable  labor  which  often  tempted  me  to  anathe- 
matize the  whole  collection!  Of  course  these  dearly-bought 
treasures  are  all  the  more  valuable  to  me  now.  The  thirty 
chests  of  natural  curiosities  accumulated  in  Belligam,  and 
the  twenty  boxes  full  collected  in  Galle,  amply  reward  me 
for  all  the  tribulations  I was  obliged  to  endure. 


XII. 

Six  Weeks  among  the  Singhalese. 

Daily  life  in  the  rest-house  of  Belligam,  after  I had  sur- 
mounted various  obstacles,  became  very  pleasant  and  satis- 


142 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


factory,  and  was  attended  by  fewer  objectionable  features 
than  I had  at  first  apprehended.  My  four  ministering 
spirits  performed  their  tasks  with  tolerable  diligence,  and 
when  anything  was  lacking  my  faithful  Ganymede  was 
always  ready  to  supply  the  want.  Fully  awake  to  the  pre- 
scribed limits  of  my  time  in  Belligam  and  the  many  sacri- 
fices I had  made  to  this  Indian  journey,  I would  say  to 
myself  every  morning  when  I awoke,  “This  day  is  worth 
at  least  five  pounds  sterling,  and  I must  accomplish  enough 
work  to  equal  that  sum  in  value.”  Accordingly  I made  it 
a rule  not  to  lose  a single  hour,  and  especially  to  forego 
the  pleasure  of  the  customary  siesta  during  the  hot  hours 
of  noon;  they  would  be  my  most  fruitful  working  time,  for 
I might  be  certain  that  no  one  would  disturb  me. 

As  Belligam  is  not  quite  six  degrees  from  the  equator, 
and  even  on  the  shortest  day  of  the  year  there  is  scarcely 
an  hour’s  difference  between  day  and  night,  I might  count 
on  twelve  working  hours.  Accordingly  I arose  regularly 
every  morning  before  the  sun,  and  had  enjoyed  my  first 
refreshing  bath  when  Helios  made  his  appearance  above  the 
palm-groves  on  Cape  Mirissa,  directly  opposite  the  rest- 
house.  Then  I would  go  out  on  the  veranda,  from  whence 
I usually  observed  the  sudden  awakening  of  the  young  day, 
and  find  Ganymede  awaiting  me  with  a fresh  cocoanut  full 
of  cool  milk.  In  the  mean  time  William  would  shake  the 
millepeds,  scorpions,  and  other  unwelcome  intruders  from 
my  clothes.  Then  Socrates  would  appear  and  humbly 
serve  my  tea,  with  the  usual  accompaniments  of  bananas 
and  corn  bread.  I was  obliged  to  forego  the  luxury  of 
coffee,  my  favorite  drink,  for  in  Ceylon,  whose  coffee 
districts  are  its  chief  source  of  wealth,  the  noble  beverage 
is  usually  so  inferior  that  tea,  which  is  much  better,  is  gen- 
erally preferred.  The  reason  for  this  is  said  to  be  that  the 
coffee  bean  cannot  be  properly  dried  on  the  island. 

Usually  at  seven  o’clock  iny  boatman  would  fetch  the 
nets  and  glass  vessels  for  our  daily  expedition  on  the  bay. 
On  my  return,  after  two  or  three  hours,  I would  at  once 
distribute  the  treasures  I had  secured  in  the  different  ves- 
sels prepared  for  their  reception,  and  proceed  to  examine 
and  preserve  those  animals  which  were  still  alive.  The 
more  important  would  be  subjected  to  close  microscopic 
scrutiny,  and  perhaps  have  their  portraits  sketched.  Then 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


143 


I would  take  my  second  bath,  and  after  it,  at  eleven 
o’clock,  a second  meal,  the  so-called  “breakfast,”  which 
consisted  chiefly  of  the  national  “curry  and  rice.”  The 
rice  itself  was  always  simply  boiled,  but  all  the  ingenuity 
stepmother  nature  had  crammed  into  Babua’s  diminutive 
skull  was  daily  exercised  to  surprise  me  with  a new  sort 
of  curry.  This  most  important  ragout-like  mess,  which 
always  accompanied  a dish  of  rice,  would  sometimes  be 
“sweet”  (that  is,  with  very  little  spice),  sometimes  “hot” 
(sharp  with  cayenne  pepper  and  the  like  pungent  season- 
ing); again  the  indefinable  “ mixtum  composition ,”  would 
be  chiefly  vegetable  (cocoanut,  and  various  other  fruits 
and  vegetables);  then  again  it  would  be  animal,  with 
meats  of  different  sorts.  The  latter  always  excited  my 
liveliest  wonder,  for  Babua  seemed  to  think  that  because  I 
was  a zoologist  I would  of  course  be  interested  in  all  the 
different  animal  orders,  and  that  their  adaptability  to  a 
curry  would  form  an  important  zoological  problem  which 
it  would  give  me  pleasure  to  solve.  If  on  Monday  the  ver- 
tebrates would  be  represented  in  the  curry  by  a delicate 
fish,  on  Tuesday  the  finer  prawns  and  crabs  would  appear 
as  types  of  the  articulates.  If  on  Wednesday  cuttle-fish  or 
calamary  ( Sepia  and  Loligo ) would  appear  as  the  highly- 
organized  representatives  of  the  mollusks,  they  would  be 
surpassed  on  Thursday  by  boiled  snails,  and  occasionally 
baked  oysters.  On  Friday  would  follow  the  remarkable 
tribe  of  echinoderms,  represented  by  the  egg-like  sea- 
urchins,  or  the  tough,  leathery  liolothures  (trepang). 
Saturdays  I naturally  expected  to  be  regaled  with  plant- 
animals,  and  would  look  for  corals,  medusae,  or  sponges, 
but  my  cook  evidently  held  to  the  old-time  theory  which 
classes  these  zoophytes  with  plants,  and  substituted  in  their 
stead  some  sort  of  flying  animal.  Now  it  would  be  a bat  or 
a bird,  a corpulent  rhinoceros-beetle,  or  a night-flying 
moth.  Sundays  a special  feast  would  surprise  me:  the 
curry  would  contain  an  Indian  fowl  or  else  a plump  lizard 
(iguana),  occasionally. also  a snake  that  I at  first  took  to 
be  an  eel.  Babua  was  evidently  sure  of  the  near  consan- 
guinity of  birds  and  reptiles,  and  thought  it  immaterial 
whether  he  prepared  the  younger  or  older  sauropsida- 
form  for  the  table.  Fortunately  for  my  European  prej- 
udices, I was  familiarized  by  degrees  with  the  zoological 


144 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


variety  of  the  rest-house  curry — though  usually  not  until 
after  I had  resignedly  swallowed  the  mess.  Besides  there 
was  such  a conglomeration  of  spices,  roots,  leaves,  and 
fruits  mixed  up  in  the  thick  sauce  that  only  the  most 
minute  anatomical  examination  would  have  enlightened 
me  as  to  the  nature  of  its  component  parts — and  that  I 
took  good  care  not  to  undertake. 

The  first  week  in  Belligam  I doubted  very  much  whether 
1 could  stand  a curry  and  rice  diet  for  two  months.  But 
I was  like  Goethe  with  the  muddy  “Merseburger  beer:”  at 
first  I could  hardly  make  up  my  mind  to  taste  the  curry, 
and  afterwards  I could  hardly  do  without  it.  The  second 
week  I concluded  to  make  virtue  a necessity,  and  deter- 
mined to  find  curry  palatable — or  at  least  interesting;  and 
before  the  end  of  the  first  month  gastronomic  adaptation 
had  made  so  thorough  an  Indian  of  me  that  I was  con- 
stantly longing  for  new  curries.  I even  devoted  the  results 
of  my  hunting  expeditions  to  their  discovery,  and  surprised 
old  Babua  himself  with  my  improved  curry-forms  of  ape 
and  flying  fox.  The  delicious  fruits  which  graced  the  table 
at  every  meal  richly  compensated  for  the  curry  torments  I 
had  to  endure.  First  of  all  I must  gratefully  mention  the 
bananas,  the  noblest  of  tropical  gifts  that  richly  deserve 
their  name  of  “paradise  figs”  ( Musa  sapientum).  If  this 
incomparable  fruit  in  all  tropical  regions  belongs  to  the 
most  grateful  of  culture-plants,  and  repays  its  possessor  a 
thousandfold  for  the  trifling  care  bestowed  upon  it,  then 
is  this  particularly  the  case  in  Ceylon.  For  is  not  this  the 
“paradise  of  the  lemur”?  The  pair  of  comical  semi-apes 
or  lemurs  ( Stenops  gracilis)  I kept  at  the  rest-house  were 
not  in  the  least  doubt  about  it;  they  preferred  their  lus- 
cious paradise  figs  to  all  other  diet.  Numerous  varieties 
of  the  banana  are  cultivated  by  the  Singhalese.  The  finest 
are  the  small  golden  “Lady-fingers,”  which  are  really 
not  much  larger  than  the  finger  of  a fine  lady,  and  are 
distinguished  by  a peculiar  sweetness.  The  huge  water 
banana  is  the  shape,  size,  and  color  of  a large  cucumber, 
and  contains  a refreshing,  thirst-satisfying  juice.  The 
thick  potato  banana  is  valued  for  its  farinaceous  substance 
and  nourishing  qualities,  three  or  four  being  sufficient  to 
satisfy  hunger.  The  anana  banana  is  distinguished  by  a 
delicious  fragrance;  the  cinnamon  banana  by  its  spicy 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


145 


taste.  etc.  Usually  tlie  banana  is  eaten  raw,  but  it  is  very 
palatable  when  fried  in  lard  or  baked.  No  other  fruit  on 
earth  is  at  the  same  time  so  delicious  to  the  taste  and 
nourishing,  so  wholesome  and  abundant.  A single  banana 
tree  will  produce  a cluster  of  fruit  that  contains  several 
hundred  bananas,  and  this  tree,  with  its  magnificent  crown 
of  huge  green  plume-like  leaves,  is  merely  an  annual.  The 
picturesque  beauty  of  the  banana  vies  with  its  inestimable 
utility.  It  is  the  loveliest  adornment  of  the  native  huts. 
If  I might  transplant  to  my  garden  in  Europe  but  one 
tropical  plant,  the  “ Musa  sapientum ” would  certainly 
have  the  preference  over  all  others.  This  “Muse  of  the 
Sages5’  is  in  truth  a vegetable Philosopher’s  stone.” 

Next  to  the  banana — of  which  I consumed  several  at 
every  meal — the  mango  ( Mangifera  indica ) formed  one  of 
the  principal  adornments  of  the  rest-house  table.  It  is  a 
green,  egg-shaped  fruit,  from  three  to  six  inches  long,  with 
a cream-like,  golden  pulp  that  has  a faint  but  pronounced 
turpentine  aroma.  I found  the  fruit  of  the  passion-flower 
( Passiflora ) very  agreeable,  and  very  similar  to  our  goose- 
berry. I was  less  pleased  with  the  celebrated  custard- 
apple,  the  scaly  fruit  of  the  Annona  squamosa , and  with 
the  Indian  almond,  the  hard  nut  of  the  Terminalia  ca - 
tappa . The  quality  of  the  apple  and  orange  grown  in 
Ceylon  is  very  inferior;  the  latter,  which  will  not  ripen,  is 
juiceless  and  stringy.  The  inferiority  of  these  and  some 
other  fruits  is  doubtless  due  to  the  want  of  cultivation. 
The  Singhalese  are  too  indolent  to  trouble  themselves  with 
the  cultivation  of  plants.  After  I had  refreshed  myself 
with  a simple  breakfast  I would  usually  devote  the  hottest 
hours  of  the  day,  from  twelve  to  four,  to  anatomical  or 
microscopic  work,  to  observations  and  sketching,  as  well  as 
preserving  and  packing  collected  material.  The  following 
hours,  from  four  to  six,  I would  devote  to  excursions  into 
the  country  around  Belligam;  now  I would  sketch  in 
water  colors,  now  perpetuate  a beautiful  view  by  the  aid 
of  my  photographic  camera.  Sometimes  I would  go  into 
the  forest  to  shoot  apes  and  birds,  or  collect  snails  and 
insects;  and  sometimes  I would  hunt  for  rare  curiosities 
among  the  coral  reefs  along  the  shore.  Usually  about  an 
hour  before  sundown  I would  return  richly  laden  with 
spoil  to  the  rest-house,  when  another  hour  would  be  spent 


146 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


in  attending  to  the  objects  I had  collected : skinning  and 
].) reparing  the  animals  I had  shot,  pressing  plants,  etc. 
Thus  it  would  be  eight  o’clock  before  I was  ready  for 
dinner,  the  second  meal  of  consequence.  Here  again  the 
chief  dish  would  be  the  inevitable  “curry  and  rice.”  It 
was  followed  by  fish  or  crabs,  both  of  which  I relished  im- 
mensely. Then  followed  farinaceous  dishes,  after  which 
delicious  fruits  concluded  the  meal.  Belligam  is  of  course 
well  supplied  with  fish  of  all  sorts.  One  of  the  finest  is 
the  Seir  fish  ( Cybium  guttatum ),  a large  flat  thorny  finned 
fish  belonging  to  the  mackerel  or  Scomberidce  family. 
The  Cataphracti , Squamipennes , and  Labroides  families 
also  furnished  savory  representatives.  Less  deserving  of 
praise  were  the  curious  ray-fish  and  sharks,  of  which  huge 
examples  were  daily  exposed  for  sale- in  the  fish-market. 
In  trying  to  render  these  “primary  fishes” — the  ancestors 
of  the  higher  vertebrates  (man  included) — palatable  by 
pungent  pepper  sauces,  Babua  evidently  reckoned  on  the 
peculiar  philo-genetic  interest  they  might  have  for  me. 

From  this  menu  the  indulgent  reader  may  infer  that  I 
was  in  a fair  way  of  becoming  a vegetarian.  True,  Socra- 
tes on  several  occasions  sought  to  delight  me  with  what 
he  considered  extra  dainties:  beefsteak  and  mutton  chops. 
But  I forbear  to  mention  my  suspicions  concerning  the 
true  nature  of  the  animal  to  which  I was  indebted  for  these 
special  delicacies. 

The  lack  of  European  meat  diet  was  occasionally  supplied 
by  the  results  of  a successful  hunting  expedition.  First 
among  the  relishes  thus  obtained  was  roast  ape;  this  noble 
game  is  exceedingly  palatable  either  roasted  or  stewed  in 
vinegar.  The  flesh  of  the  flying  fox  is  not  so  appetizing; 
it  has  a peculiar  musk-like  odor.  The  flesh  of  the  giant 
lizard  ( Monitor  draccena)  can  scarcely  be  distinguished 
from  veal;  while  the  snake  soup  is  very  like  a soup  made 
of  eels.  Among  the  various  birds  which  were  used  as  sub- 
stitutes for  domestic  fowl  were  wild  pigeons  and  ducks, 
crows  and  herons.  If  to  these  are  added  the  different 
“ frutti  di  mare” — the  piquant  fruits  of  the  sea — mussels, 
snails,  sea-urchins,  holothures,  etc.,  the  bill  of  fare  at 
Belligam  may  be  said  to  offer  a greater  variety  than  one 
would  at  first  suppose. 

In  addition  to  these  native  products  Mr.  Scott  had 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON . 


147 


kindly  furnished  me  with  all  sorts  of  European  conserves, 
Scotch  marmalade,  Liebig’s  extracts,  etc.,  as  well  as  a 
generous  supply  of  liquors.  At  first  the  important  ques^ 
tion  of  what  to  drink  seemed  a difficult  one  tfl  answer. 
Although  the  highlands  of  Ceylon  are  abundantly  supplied 
with  pure  spring  water,  the  drinking  water  of  the  low- 
lands is  bad  and  very  unwholesome.  The  copious  rains 
which  deluge  the  island  every  day  wash  masses  of  earth 
and  vegetable  remains  into  the  rivers,  whose  waters  in 
many  places  communicate  with  stagnant  lagoons.  Conse- 
quently the  water  used  for  drinking  purposes  is  always 
boiled,  made  into  weak  tea,  or  mixed  with  wine  or  whiskey. 
My  friend  Scott  had  sent  me  a generous  quantity  of  the 
latter  beverage,  but  I preferred  cocoanut  milk,  which  I 
found  agreeable  and  refreshing  as  well  as  wholesome. 

My  frugal  dinner  happily  over,  I would  ramble  along  the 
deserted  seashore,  or  enjoy  the  illumination  of  the  cocoa- 
grove  by  the  myriads  of  glow-worms  and  fireflies.  Then  I 
would  write  a few  lines  in  my  note-book,  or  try  to  read  by 
the  dim  light  of  my  cocoa-oil  lamp.  Usually  by  nine 
o’clock  extreme  weariness  would  compel  me  to  seek  my 
couch — after  the  clothes-shaking  process  of  the  morning  had 
been  repeated.  The  large  black  scorpions  (six  inches  long) 
are  so  numerous  that  I once  collected  a half  dozen  in  an 
hour’s  time.  Snakes  also  abound  in  great  numbers.  The 
pretty  green  whip-snakes  hang  everywhere  from  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  and  huge  rat-snakes  ( Coryphodon 
hlumenbachii)  at  night  chase  the  rats  and  mice  over  the 
roof.  Although  they  are  perfectly  harmless  it  is  by  no 
means  a pleasant  sensation  to  have  a snake  five  feet  long 
suddenly  drop  through  a hole  in  the  roof,  and  occasionally 
on  your  bed.  However  my  nights  were  rarely  disturbed 
by  the  various  beasties  of  Belligam,  except  occasionally  by 
the  howl  of  a jackal,  the  dismal  cry  of  the  devihbird  (an 
owl,  Syrnium  indrani ),  or  some  other  night  bird.  The 
tinkling  notes  of  the  dainty  little  tree  frog,  whose  habitat 
is  in  the  cup  of  a large  flower,  was  a soothing  lullaby. 
More  frequently  the  play  of  my  own  thoughts  would  drive 
slumber  from  my  eyes.  Recollections  of  past  experiences 
and  enjoyments  and  anticipations  of  those  to  come  would 
crowd  my  brain.  In  long  and  brilliant  succession  the 
motley  scenes  of  the  past  weeks  would  flit  before  me,  and 


148 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


captivating  plans  for  the  morrow  be  devised.  My  attempts 
at  photography  and  sketching  in  water  colors,  as  well  as 
my  work  in  the  zoological  laboratory,  gradually  brought 
me  into  closer  relations  with  the  bronze-hued  Belligamians, 
the  majority  of  whom  are  pure  Singhalese.  The  very  first 
week  of  my  sojourn  in  the  village  I was  called  upon  to 
assist  the  “native  doctor”  perform  several  surgical  opera- 
tions, which  were  happily  successful.  My  reputation  as 
skilled  surgeon  soon  assumed  such  exaggerated  proportions 
that  I would  gladly  have  transferred  the  brilliant  (if  not 
profitable)  practice  to  one  of  my  worthy  colleagues  in 
Germany.  I was  even  reputed  to  be  a conjurer  that  could 
brew  magic  potions  from  certain  plants  and  extract  gold 
from  different  sea  animals.  The  most  astonishing  de- 
mands were  made  on  my  black  art.  Old  and  young  would 
follow  me  in  crowds  whenever  I rambled  through  the  vil- 
lage or  its  surroundings,  and  behold  in  everything  I did 
some  mysterious  witchcraft. 

As  I mentioned  before,  the  trade  in  natural  curiosities 
became  a very  interesting  and  profitable  feature  of  my  resi- 
dence in  Belligam.  Among  the  various  articles  of  barter  I 
had  brought  with  me,  the  iron  instruments,  knives,  scis- 
sors, tongs,  hammers,  etc.,  were  especially  coveted;  also 
glass  beads,  colored  stones,  and  similar  articles  of  adornment. 
But  the  highest  worth  was  given — and  it  speaks  well  for 
the  artistic  perceptions  of  the  Singhalese — to  the  highly- 
colored  illustrations,  of  which  I had  brought  two  or  three 
hundred.  These  works  of  art,  the  familiar  favorites  of  our 
children  (the  celebrated  Bilderbogen  aus  Neu-Ruppin , 
Schon  zu  haben , bei  Gustav  Kuhn;  Stuck  fur  Stuck , funf 
pfennig!),  met  with  an  exceedingly  favorable  reception  in 
Belligam,  and  I was  only  sorry  that  I had  not  laid  in  a 
larger  supply.  As  gifts  to  the  important  personages  they 
were  also  very  acceptable,  and  I could  offer  nothing  better 
in  return  for  the  heaps  of  cocoanuts,  bananas,  mangoes,  and 
other  luscious  fruits  which  were  daily  sent  to  the  rest- 
house.  Soon  all  the  more  imposing  huts  in  the  village 
were  decorated  with  one  or  more  of  these  productions  of 
German  art.  Indeed,  several  chiefs  from  neighboring  vil- 
lages brought  me  offerings  of  fruit  and  flowers  in  order  to 
secure  some  of  the  coveted  pictures.  The  subjects  most  ap- 
proved by  my  dusky  patrons  were  those  appurtenant  to  the 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


149 


military:  Prussian  ulans,  Austrian  hussars,  French  artil- 
lery, English  marines,  etc.  The  second  choice  embodied 
theatrical  scenes,  such  as  Titania  and  Oberon,  The 
White  Lady,  Somnambula,  and  Wagner’s  Nibelungen  Ring. 
The  third  choice  comprised  domestic  animals:  horses, 
cows,  sheep.  The  fourth  and  last  was  for  genre  pictures 
and  landscapes,  the  more  gorgeous  the  better. 

This  mutual  present-giving  soon  established  the  friend- 
liest relations  between  me  and  the  inhabitants  of  Belligam; 
and  when  I walked  or  rode  in  my  bullock  cart  through  the 
village  I was  constantly  bowing  right  and  left  in  response 
to  the  respectful  salutations  of  my  dusky  friends.  In  my 
walks  through  the  Singhalese  villages  I was  always  struck 
by  the  absence  of  the  fair  sex;  even  among  the  children 
playing  in  the  streets  the  boys  formed  by  all  odds  the 
greater  number.  The  girls  are  early  accustomed  to  house- 
hold work;  they  fade  very  young,  are  married  at  ten  or 
twelve  years  of  age,  and  become  old  women  at  twenty  or 
thirty.  Grandmothers  of  twenty-five  and  thirty  are  not  in- 
frequent. A further  significant  fact  is  the  disproportion 
between  the  male  and  female  births:  ten  boys  on  an  aver- 
age are  born  to  eight  or  nine  girls.  Here  the  fairer  sex  is 
in  the  minority,  and  it  is  also  the  least  attractive.  The 
disproportion  between  the  sexes  is  due,  to  some  extent,  to 
the  remarkable  institution  of  Polyandry.  In  spite  of  the 
efforts  made  by  the  English  Government  to  suppress  this 
custom  it  is  still  practised,  and  is  probably  increasing — 
particularly  in  the  more  remote  parts  of  the  island.  It  is 
not  unusual  to  find  two  or  three  brothers  with  one  wife  in 
common,  and  there  are  ladies  who  rejoice  in  the  possession 
of  from  eight  to  twelve  husbands.  These  complicated 
family  relations  and  their  consequences  form  the  theme  of 
many  extraordinary  stories,  but  it  is  of  course  difficult  to 
separate  fact  from  fiction. 

Old  Socrates,  with  whom  I once  discussed  the  custom  of 
Polyandry,  astonished  me  by  a novel  theory  of  transmission 
that  is  sufficiently  remarkable  to  be  mentioned  here.  Al- 
though it  is  not  to  be  found  among  the  different  laws  of 
transmission,  mentioned  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  my  Nat- 
ural History  of  the  Creation , it  is  so  original  that  the  fol- 
lowers of  Darwin  cannot  help  but  be  interested  in  it.  First, 
I must  premise  that  Socrates  was  a son  of  the  Kandyan 


150 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


highlands,  and — according  to  his  account — a worthy  mem- 
ber of  the  highest  caste.  Consequently,  he  looked  with  su- 
preme contempt  on  the  inhabitants  of  Belligam,  among 
whom  he  had  lived  for  several  years,  and  with  whom  he  was 
plainly  not  on  friendly  terms.  The  very  first  day  he  warned 
me  to  beware  of  them,  and  enumerated  a number  of  their 
most  repulsive  faults.  “ Of  course/5  he  added  abruptly, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  “their  baseness  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at;  for  you  must  know,  sir,  that  every  one  of  these 
lowland  people  had  several  fathers,  and  as  a number  of  evil 
qualities  was  inherited  from  every  one  of  the  sires,  the  de- 
terioration of  the  race  is  quite  natural !” 

Such  universal  depravity  of  course  made  me  doubtful  as 
to  the  propriety  of  remaining  in  Belligam,  but  I was  as- 
sured by  the  worthy  steward  of  the  rest-house  that  lie  was  to 
be  trusted,  and  that  I might  confidently  depend  on  his 
being  a perfectly  upright  and  honest  man.  I was  considera- 
bly surprised  when,  shortly  afterwards,  the  first  head  man 
called  on  me,  and  in  the  strictest  confidence  repeated  almost 
the  same  words.  I was  enlightened  as  to  the  real  character 
of  the  Belligamians  after  I had  heard  the  same  story,  with 
different  variations,  from  the  half  dozen  or  more  important 
personages  whose  visits  followed  that  of  their  chief. 

The  shadow  which  these  remarkable  communications  cast 
on  the  imaginary  paradi sal  innocence  of  the  untutored  Sin- 
ghalese, became  all  the  more  gloomy  when  the  “ judge55  (or, 
as  he  preferred  to  be  called,  the  “ President  of  the  Cham  ber 
of  Justice,55)  informed  me  with  a sigh  that  he  had  to  work 
harder  than  any  one  in  the  village,  and  that  his  judicial 
labors  occupied  the  entire  day.  Indeed,  I found  the  hall  of 
justice  (an  open  shed  like  the  schoolhouse)  almost  always 
filled  with  villagers  intent  upon  securing  their  rights.  It 
was  rather  comforting  to  hear  that  a majority  of  the  cases 
were  slander,  cheating,  and  stealing — particularly  the  latter. 
An  inherent  partiality  for  what  does  not  belong  to  him 
characterizes  the  Singhalese.  He  is  also  a liar  of  the  high- 
est degree,  but  no  friend  of  violent  deeds.  Corporeal  inju- 
ries and  manslaughter  are  of  infrequent  occurrence.  Mur- 
der is  almost  unknown.  In  fact  the  more  active  passions 
rarely  appeal-;  the  Singhalese  temperament  is,  on  the  whole, 
decidedly  phlegmatic. 

The  Singhalese  are  extremely  fond  of  music  and  dancing. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


151 


both  of  *a  kind  that  would  be  little  to  the  European  taste. 
The  principal  instruments  are  drums  and  tom-toms,  vigor- 
ously beaten  with  wooden  clubs,  reed-pipes,  and  a primitive 
instrument  with  a single  string  (monochord).  Evenings, 
when  I heard  the  ear-splitting  noise  of  these  instruments, 
and  would  follow  the  sound,  I would  be  sure  to  find  before 
afire,  under  a group  of  palms,  a troop  of  a half  dozen  or 
.more  naked  brown  fellows  who  had  fantastically  painted 
themselves  with  white,  yellow,  and  red  stripes,  jumping 
about  and  cutting  the  most  extraordinary  capers.  Around 
them  in  a wide  circle  squatted  the  delighted  audience, 
watching  the  grotesque  performance  with  the  greatest  inter- 
est. About  Christmas  time  (which  is  also  the  Buddhist 
New  Year)  these  evening  44  devil-dances”  are  of  more  fre- 
quent occurrence,  and  are  of  peculiar  religious  signification. 
The  principal  performers  then  are  fantastically  decorated 
with  colored  feathers,  wear  horns  and  long  tails,  to  the 
great  delight  of  the  village  youth.  Whole  troops  of  these 
jumping  and  howling  demons,  accompanied  by  music,  pa- 
rade through  the  village  all  day  long,  while  the  nightly  revels 
frequently  develop  into  unseemly  orgies. 

A peculiar  Buddhist  feast  had  been  prepared  on  the  19th 
of  December  by  the  chief  of  Dena-Pitya,  a neighboring  vil- 
lage. I was  invited  as  a guest  of  honor,  and  was  escorted 
to  the  festal  scene  by  an  imposing  procession  of  Dena- 
Pityans.  A dozen  old,  close-shaven  Buddhist  priests  in 
yellow  growns  received  me  under  the  branches  of  an  im- 
mense sacred  fig  tree,  and  conducted  me,  amid  the  most  ex- 
traordinary chanting,  into  the  temple,  which  was  tastefully 
decorated  with  wreaths  and  garlands.  Here,  the  large 
image  of  Buddha,  also  profusely  adorned  with  fragrant  blos- 
soms, was  shown  to  me,  and  the  signification  of  the  paint- 
ings on  the  walls  (scenes  from  the  life  of  the  god)  amply  ex- 
pounded. Then  I was  conducted  to  a throne  that  had  been 
prepared  for  me  under  a shady  group  of  banana  trees  op- 
posite the  temple,  and  now  the  real  performance  began.  A 
band  of  five  tom-tom  beaters  and  as  many  pipers  began 
an  uproar  which  was  enough  to  move  the  rocks;  at  the  same 
moment  two  dancers  on  stilts  twelve  feet  long  made  their 
appearance  and  performed  the  most  wonderful  evolutions. 
At  intervals  the  daughters  of  the  chief,  black-haired, 
voluptuous  girls  from  twelve  to  twenty  years  old,  carried 


152 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


around  the  refreshments:  toddy  or  palm  wine  in  cocoannt 
shells,  sweetmeats  and  fruits.  Unfortunately  I could  not 
understand  a single  word  of  the  flowery  oration  delivered 
to  me  by  the  chief,  but  I guessed  its  purport  to  be  the 
honor  I had  conferred  on  Dena-Pitya  by  my  visit.  The 
same  was  expressed  in  pantomime  by  a band  of  ten  naked, 
gaudily-painted,  and  fantastically* adorned  devil-dancers 
that  capered  madly  around  my  throne.  When  at  last  to- 
wards sundown  I took  leave  of  my  entertainers,  and  sought 
my  bullock  cart  I found  that  it  had  been  filled  to  over- 
flowing by  the  hospitable  Dena-Pityans  with  the  most  beau- 
tiful bananas  and  cocoanuts. 

Scarcely  was  my  role  of  honored  guest  at  a genuine 
Buddhist  feast  concluded  when  the  very  next  day  I was 
called  on  to  perform  a similar  part  in  the  annual  fes- 
tivities of  the  Wesleyan  Mission  at  Belligam.  The  follow- 
ing morning  (Dec.  20th)  the  president  of  the  mission  at 
Point  de  Galle  unexpectedly  made  his  appearance  at  the 
rest  house,  and  informed  me  that  a distribution  of  prizes 
among  the  scholars  of  the  mission  school  at  Belligam 
would  take  place  that  day,  and  that  I could  render  no  great- 
er service  to  the  good  cause  than  by  distributing  the  prizes 
among  the  children.  In  spite  of  all  resistance  I was  at  last 
obliged  to  yield.  If  I had  rendered  homage  yesterday  to 
immortal  Buddha,  to-day  I must  pay  due  respect  to  the  ex- 
cellent Mr.  Wesley.  Accordingly,  in  the  afternoon  I re- 
paired to  the  public  schoolhouse  where  perhaps  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  children  dressed  in  white  were  assembled; 
some  were  from  Belligam,  and  some  from  the  neighboring 
villages.  The  exercises  began  with  a number  of  hymns — a 
performance  that  did  not  impress  me  very  favorably  with 
the  musical  abilities  of  the  dusky  schoolmaster.  To  me 
it  seemed  as  if  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  children  (about 
ninety  boys  and  sixty  girls)  sang  at  least  fifty  different  mel- 
odies, and  atoned  for  the  want  of  harmony  by  the  strength 
of  their  voices.  The  examination  in  biblical  history  and 
English  grammar  which  followed  was  very  satisfactory, 
as  were  also  the  specimens  of  drawing  and  writing — espec- 
ially when  all  the  circumstances  of  this  Ceylon  paradise 
were  considered.  Then  the  Reverend  Mr.  N.  delivered  a 
formal  lecture,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  he  asked  me 
to  distribute  the  thirty  prizes  among  the  most  diligent 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


153 


scholars.  As  I called  the  names  from  the  list  he  gave  me, 
the  fortu»ate  little  Singhalese  would  come  forward  with 
beaming  faces,  and,  bowing  low  before  me,  receive  the  re- 
ward for  their  industry,  an  English  book  or  an  illustrated 
primer.  The  ceremonies  concluded  with  an  entertainment 
of  coffee  and  cakes.  My  friends  in  Galle  and  Colombo, 
whom  the  newspapers  informed  of  my  extraordinary  per- 
formances, were  greatly  amused. 

But  the  most  remarkable  celebration  I attended  while  in 
Belligam  was  the  burial  of  an  aged  Buddha  priest  on  t he 
13th  of  January.  While  the  common  people  here  are  sim- 
ply buried  (in  the  gardens  behind  their  houses,  or  in  the 
nearest  cocoa-grove),  the  priests  alone  share  the  honor  of  be- 
ing consumed  by  fire.  The  priest  to  be  burned  on  this  oc- 
casion was  the  oldest  and  most  distinguished  in  the  com- 
munity; accordingly  the  funeral  pyre  of  palm  stems  was 
erected  near  the  principal  temple.  After  the  body,  which 
rested  on  a flower-adorned  bier,  had  been  carried,  amid 
solemn  chanting,  through  the  village,  a band  of  young 
Buddha  priests  in  yellow  robes  hoisted  it  to  the  top  of  the 
funeral  pile  which  was  about  thirty  feet  high.  The  four 
corners  of  the  pyre  were  supported  by  four  cocoa-palms,  be- 
tween which  was  stretched  canopy  like  a large  wdiite  cloth. 
After  the  conclusion  of  various  ceremonies,  solemn  dirges 
and  prayer,  the  pile  at  five  o’clock  wras  lighted  amidst  the 
most  deafening  tom-tom  uproar.  A crowd  of  several  thou- 
sand people  watched  the  burning  pile  with  expectant  inter- 
est, and  when  the  flames  seized  and  devoured  the  muslin 
canopy  a loud,  jubilant  cry  went  up  from  every  throat — 
the  soul  of  the  burning  priest  had  taken  its  flight  to  heaven. 
This  was  the  signal  for  the  inauguration  of  more  cheerful 
ceremonies.  Rice  cakes  and  palm  wine  were  distributed 
among  the  crowd,  and  a merry  carousal  followed  that  was 
kept  up  around  the  burning  pyre  the  greater  part  of  the 
night. 

Aside  from  these  celebrations  and  several  excursions  into 
the  more  distant  parts  of  the  country  around  Belligam,  the 
pleasant  routine  of  my  retired  life  was  seldom  interrupted. 
Now  and  then  an  English  Government  official  on  a tour  of 
inspection  would  spend  a few  hours,  or  the  night  at  the 
rest-house.  Less  agreeable  visitors  were  several  Singhalese 
schoolmasters  who  had  been  attracted  by  the  reputation  of 


154 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


my  laboratory.  They  came  from  a distant  part  of  the  prov- 
ince, introduced  themselves  as  colleagues  of  *nine,  and 
wanted  to  know  and  see  everything  I could  tell  and  show 
them.  Of  course  I am  only  a schoolmaster  myself,  and 
cherish  an  unbounded  reverence  for  my  caste;  but  the  pe- 
culiar species  of  the  Prmceptor  Singkalensis  with  which  I 
came  in  contact  here  was,  I confess,  very  little  to  my 
taste.  I was  heartily  glad  when  the  importunate  and  con- 
ceited as  well  as  ignorant  fellows  took  their  departure. 
Later  I made  the  acquaintance  of  several  more  agreeable 
and  better-informed  examples  of  the  same  genera. 

The  most  remarkable  of  all  the  numerous  visits  I re- 
ceived while  in  Belligam  surprised  me  about  Christmas- 
time. I returned  late  one  evening  very  tired  from  a distant 
excursion  to  Boralu,  and  was  met  at  the  gate  in  front  of 
the  rest-house  by  Socrates,  who  informed  me  in  a mysterious 
whisper  that  four  strange  “ladies”  were  waiting  to  see  me. 
Sure  enough,  in  the  dimly-lighted  dining-room  I found  four 
representatives  of  the  gentler  sex,  clad  in  European  costume, 
but  with  execrable  taste.  I was  considerably  startled  when 
the  flickering  lamp-light  revealed  four  wrinkled  old  faces — 
each  homelier  than  the  other.  Had  there  been  but  three 
I should  have  at  once  decided  that  my  visitors  were  the 
three  Phorhyades  from  the  classic  Walpurgisnaclit , and — 
after  the  manner  of  Mephistopheles — would  have  made 
some  flattering  remarks.  But  this  was  spared  me  by  the 
eldest  of  the  four  bronze  graces  (she  was  at  least  fifty!)  ris- 
ing and  saying,  in  a polite,  dignified  manner  and  fairly 
good  English,  that  she  and  her  sisters  were  the  knowledge- 
seeking daughters  of  a neighboring  chief,  and  that  their 
great-grandfather  had  been  a Dutchman.  They  were  greatly 
interested  in  science,  and  were  anxious  to  inspect  my  col- 
lections, instruments,  etc.  I begged  them  to  come  again] 
the  following  day,  when  I would  gratify  their  thirst  for 
information. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


155 


XIII. 

Basamuna  and  Mirissa. 

The  immediate  surroundings  of  Belligam,  as  well  as  the 
more  distant  hill  country,  abounds  in  enchanting  pictures, 
and  displays  the  idyllic  and  at  the  same  time  magnificent 
tropical  character  of  South-west  Ceylon  in  its  greatest  per- 
fection. The  numerous  excursions  I made  in  different 
directions,  generally  in  company  with  Ganymede  and 
William,  are  among  my  most  agreeable  recollections. 

The  lovely  harbor  of  Belligam  in  situation,  extent,  and 
outline  is  almost  exactly  like  that  of  Point  de  Galle;  only 
the  former  is  about  one  third  the  larger.  Both  harbors 
form  a half-circle  that  opens  towards  the  south,  and  is 
sheltered  on  either  side  by  a rocky  promontory.  The  radius 
of  the  half-circle  at  Belligam  is  perhaps  something  more 
than  a nautical  mile;  at  Galle  it  is  a trifle  less.  The  dis- 
tance from  promontory  to  promontory  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Galle  harbor  is  a mile  and  a half;  at  Belligam,  only  one 
mile.  The  westerly  projection,  which  in  Galle  is  occupied 
by  the  fort,  in  Belligam  forms  Basamuna  Point — an  exceed- 
ingly picturesque  group  of  hills  whose  dark  red  cliffs  are 
ornamented  with  clumps  of  the  most  remarkable  pandanus 
trees.  The  eastern  promontory,  which  in  both  places  juts 
farther  into  the  ocean  and  is  the  higher,  in  Galle  contains 
the  “ watering-place/5  and  in  Belligam  the  charming 
groves  of  Mirissa. 

The  striking  resemblance  between  these  two  bodies  of 
water  is  increased  by  the  similarity  of  their  white  sand 
beaches,  both  of  which  are  shaded  by  magnificent  cocoa- 
groves,  and  interspersed  with  red  and  brown  rock  masses. 
Here  and  there  you  catch  a glimpse  of  the  blue  mountains 
in  the  distant  highlands;  among  them  the  ever-conspicuous 
landmarks,  the  Haycock  and  Adam’s  Peak.  Even  in  their 
wonderful  coral  formation  are  Galle  and  Belligam  harbors 
alike. 

As  the  largest  and  finest  coral  banks  of  Galle  encircle 
the  fort  at  the  foot  of  the  westerly  promontory,  so  in  Bel- 
ligam they  sulround  the  craggy  foot  of  Basamuna.  The 
coral  banks  of  Belligam  are  not  so  extensive  as  those  of 


150 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


Galle,  but  its  harbor  is  much  deeper  and  less  obstructed  by 
dangerous  reefs.  It  is  therefore  difficult  to  understand 
why  the  splendid  and  commodious  harbor  of  Belligam  has 
not  long  ago  become  important  for  navigation,  and  why  a 
proud  and  flourishing  commercial  city  has  not  taken  the 
place  of  the  insignificant  fishing  village.  Had  I to  estab- 
lish a colony  in  India  I would  go  nowhere  else  but  to 
Belligemma!  ✓ 

Basamuna  Point  was  my  favorite  promenade  while  I re- 
mained in  Belligam.  Afternoons,  between  four  and  five 
o’clock,  after  I had  finished  my  zoological  tasks,  and  care- 
fully disposed  of  the  marine  treasures  in  alcohol  which  I 
had  secured  during  the  morning,  I would  hastily  lock  the 
microscope  and  anatomical  instruments  in  their  cupboard, 
and  sling  the  cartridge  box  and  botanical  case  around 
Ganymede’s  shoulders.  William  would  carry  the  gun  and 
butterfly  nets,  and  I would  take  charge  of  the  water-color 
utensils  and  sketch-book.  The  Basamuna  cliffs  are  only 
half  a mile  distant  from  the  rest-house,  which,  by  the  way, 
stands  at  the  southern  extremity  of  the  village  on  the 
western  side  of  the  bay.  The  nearest  way  to  the  point  is 
along  the  strand,  past  some  isolated  fishing  huts,  and  then 
along  the  verge  of  the  cocoa-forest.  Here  the  incessant 
motion  of  the  sea  undermines  the  loamy  shore,  and  every 
year  causes  the  destruction  of  many  noble  cocoa-palms; 
their  bleached  corpses  protrude  from  the  water,  and  the 
brown  root-tufts  at  the  end  of  the  stems,  uplifted  and 
washed  clean  by  the  waves,  look  like  so  many  hairy  heads. 
A multitude  of  crabs,  common  and  hermit  (Ocyi>ode  and 
Pagurus)  animate  the  sands;  here  the  latter  do  not  bury 
their  hinder  parts  in  the  deserted  shell  of  the  sea-snail,  but 
prefer  the  more  stately,  red-lipped  habitation  of  the  large 
palm-snail  ( Helix  Immastoma).  When  the  ebb  tide  is  very 
low  one  may  clamber  around  the  foot  of  the  steep  cliffs  at  the 
point,  over  the  exposed  coral  rocks,  among  which  the  reced- 
ing waters  have  left  a number  of  interesting  sea  animals: 
snails,  mussels,  sea-urchins,  and  stars.  When  the  tide  is 
in  one  must  go  through  the  palm-grove,  in  which  are  scat- 
tered native  huts  with  their  usual  adornments  of  bread- 
fruit and  banana  trees. 

Emerging  suddenly  from  the  grove  you  are  surprised  by 
the  utter  solitude  and  wildness  of  the  scene  before  you: 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


157 


there  are  the  dark  red  porphyry  cliffs  of  Basamuna  Point, 
savage  crags,  rent  and  cloven,  at  whose  foot  the  raging 
surf  flings  its  foamy  spray  high  into  the  air.  The  crown 
of  the  rocky  ridge  is  almost  covered  with  screw-palms  or 
pandanus  shrubs,  of  such  fantastic  shapes  and  grotesque 
grouping  that  only  the  wildest  fancies  of  a Gustave  Lore 
could  equal  them.  Like  powerful  serpents  their  stems 
curve  and  twist  about  each  other,  below  resting  on  multi- 
tudes of  long  slender  roots,  above  branched  and  forked  like 
candelabra,  their  jagged  arms  uplifted  towards  heaven  as  if 
in  imprecation,  each  arm  terminating  in  a screw-shaped 
tuft  of  leaves.  By  the  light  of  the  full  moon  this  ghost- 
like company  with  its  long  weird  shadows  is  indeed  a 
startling  sight,  and  one  can  readily  understand  why  the 
superstitious  Singhalese  cannot  be  persuaded  to  approach 
it.  I must  confess  that  even  I — notwithstanding  the  as- 
suring presence  of  a double-barrelled  gun  and  a revolver — 
felt  decidedly  uncomfortable  once  between  ten  and  eleven 
o’clock  at  night  when  I clambered  around  in  this  witch- 
like thicket,  all  the  more  so  because  Ganymede  had  pit- 
eously besought  me  not  to  venture  near  it.  A brisk  west 
wind  flung  the  silvery  foam  of  the  surf  with  a noise  like 
thunder  high  against  the  sombre  cliffs,  and  chased  a whole 
host  of  gloomy  clouds  across  the  sky.  The  fleeting  shadows 
of  these  clouds  and  the  magical  light  of  the  full  moon, 
gave  to  the  quivering  foliage  and  tangled  branches  an  effect 
than  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  imagine  one  more 
uncanny. 

After  you  have  forced  your  way  through  the  pandanus 
thicket,  and  walked  out  on  the  projecting  cliffs  at  the 
point,  you  will  see  on  your  left  the  entrance  to  Belligam 
Bay,  and  far  to  the  south  the  cocoa-palms  of  the  distant 
Mirissa  Point;  on  the  right  you  will  behold  a graceful 
curve  of  shore  fringed  with  palms,  and  beyond  another 
rocky  point  which  juts  into  the  water  to  the  north  of  this 
stretch  of  beach,  a lovely  island  overgrown  with  shrubbery. 
Of  the  village  from  which  we  are  separated  by  several 
wooded  hills  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen,  and  no  trace  of 
human  existence  mars  the  impression  of  absolute  seclusion 
and  solitude  that  lingers  about  this  enchanted  ocean-look- 
out. Free  and  unhindered  the  glance  from  here  flies 
across  the  immeasurable  stretch  of  water,  and  meets  with 


158 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


terra  firma  only  after  it  has  traveled  thirty  degrees  towards 
the  west,  a land  that  in  every  particular  is  the  antipode  of 
our  luxuriant  surroundings — the  arid,  plantless  coast  of  the 
Abyssinian  Somali  negroes.  But  our  thoughts  will  fly  still 
farther  towards  the  north-west,  for  the  radiant  sun  bends 
lower  and  lower  towards  the  violet  horizon,  and  the  witch- 
ing hour  of  eve  draws  near;  “ die  hehre  Stunde,  da  mit 
stillem  Selinen  der  feme  Schiffer  an  die  Uigur e Heimath 
denkt”  Homeward  fly  our  thoughts  to  dear  Thuringia,  and 
to  all  the  faithful  hearts  now  gathered  around  the  evening 
lamp  or  cheerful  fire,  and  perhaps  speaking  of  the  wanderer 
in  distant  India,  while  deep  snows  cover  the  hills  and  val- 
leys with  a fleecy  mantle.  What  a contrast  to  our  sur- 
roundings! The  glowing  sun  now  sinks  into  the  ocean  and 
floods  the  red  cliffs  on  which  we  stand  with  a veritable 
sea  of  flame.  How  delicate  and  airy  are  the  rosy  evening 
clouds,  and  how  lovely  the  gilded  strand  with  its  fringe  of 
stately  palms!  But  we  have  scarcely  time  to  follow  the 
brilliant  play  of  color,  its  rapid  change  of  tints,  when  it  lias 
vanished,  and  the  brief  twilight  follows  so  quickly  in  its 
wake  that  it  is  quite  dark  before  we  have  carefully  wended 
our  way  through  the  palm-grove  back  to  the  rest-house. 

Similar  and  yet  different  from  the  attractions  of  Basa- 
mnna  are  those  of  the  opposing  point,  charming  Mirissa. 
To  reach  this  point  in  a sail* boat  requires,  if  the  breeze  is 
favorable,  less  than  a quarter  of  an  hour;  but  if  you  walk 
-along  the  shore  around  the  bay  several  hours  are  necessary, 
for  you  will  have  to  cross  the  mouth  of  the  Polwatta  River, 
which  flows  into  the  bay  at  its  north-east  corner.  It  was 
a wonderfully  bright  morning  (Jan.  6th),  when  I sailed 
across  to  Mirissa,  supplied  with  provisions  for  the  whole 
day,  as  I expected  to  make  several  excursions  from  that 
>oint.  The  little  fishing  village  of  Mirissa — the  “mussel- 
. illage”  which  stretches  along  the  foot  of  the  promontory, 
akes  its  name  from  the  multitudes  of  mussels  and  oysters 
vhicli  cover  the  rocks  along  the  shore.  A large  shoal  of 
isli  (similar  to  the  anchovy)  engaged  the  attention  of  the 
inhabitants  as  we  approached  the  village.  All  the  availa- 
ble canoes  were  distributed  among  the  shoal,  and  old  and 
voung  were  busy  with  small  hand-nets  securing  as  many 
sh  as  possible.  We  doubled  the  picturesque  cape,  against 
whose  mighty  cliffs  the  surf  dashed  furiously,  sailed  a mile 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


159 


or  so  farther  along  the  shore,  and  landed  in  a sheltered 
little  cove.  Accompanied  by  Ganymede  I climbed  to  the 
top  of  the  promontory,  and  rambled  through  the  beauti- 
ful grove,  whose  stately  trees  (chiefly  cedars  and  termi- 
nalia)  were  festooned  with  exquisite  climbing  plants. 
Numerous  apes  and  parrots  enlivened  the  grove,  but  they 
were  too  shy  for  me  to  get  a shot  at  them.  When  towards 
midday  we  returned  to  the  shore,  I noticed  near  the  boat 
a group  of  natives;  the  stately  chief  at  their  head,  a hand- 
some man  of  perhaps  forty  years,  with  a gentle,  prepossess- 
ing countenance,  approached  me,  and  in  the  most  respect- 
ful manner  presented  me  with  a basket  that  was  filled  with 
mangoes,  bananas,  oranges,  and  other  noble  fruits  from  his 
garden,  and  wreathed  with  fragrant  jasmine,  plumiera,  and 
oleander  blossoms.  With  as  much  cordiality  as  modesty 
he  begged  me  to  eat  my  lunch  in  his  hut  instead  of  under 
the  cocoa  shade  on  the  shore.  After  I had  thanked  him 
and  accepted  his  hospitable  offer  he  sent  some  of  his  peo- 
ple forward  to  prepare  for  me,  while  William  and  two  of 
my  boatmen  followed  with  our  provisions.  I myself  took 
a refreshing  bath  in  the  ocean. 

In  about  an  hour  the  chief  returned  accompanied  by  a 
number  of  the  prettiest  children,  wTho  were  adorned  with 
flowers,  and  led  me  along  a winding  path  through  the  cocoa- 
grove  to  a part  of  the  village  I had  not  noticed  before. 
Through  a neat  garden  whose  path  was  strewn  with  flowers 
we  reached  the  chiefs  rather  imposing  residence,  built  en- 
tirely of  bamboo  canes,  and  covered  with  palm  leaves.  The 
entrance  was  decorated  in  the  manner  so  well  understood  by 
the  Singhalese  with  ornaments  of  braided  palm  splints. 
Under  the  projecting  roof,  which  formed  a shady  veranda 
in  front  of  the  hut,  a large  table  had  been  improvised  of 
palm  stems  and  boards,  and  covered  with  fresh  banana 
leaves.  On  it  was  tastefully  arranged  the  luncheon  we 
had  brought  from  the  rest-house,  together  with  large  dishes 
of  rice  and  curry,  fresh  oysters,  bananas,  and  cocoanuts — 
the  gifts  of  our  generous  host.  The  splendid  appetite  with 
which  I attacked  these  tempting  viands  (it  had  been  sharp- 
ened by  my  long  ramble  and  refreshing  bath  in  the  sea)  was 
not  in  the  least  diminished  by  the  fact  that,  during  the 
entire  meal,  the  chiefs  numerous  family  stood  around  the 
table  and  watched  my  every  movement  with  intense  in- 


160 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


terest,  while  the  rest  of  the  bronze-hued  villagers  looked  on 
with  equal  interest  from  their  more  distant  station  in 
the  garden. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  original  repast,  which  had  been 
nectar  and  ambrosia  to  my  keen  appetite,  my  friendly  host 
requested  me  to  inscribe  my  name  and  that  of  my  country 
on  the  palm  leaf  he  had  fastened  above  the  doorway.  Then 
he  introduced  his  family — -at  least  sixteen  children,  each 
one  prettier  and  more  attractive  than  the  other.  The  older 
ones  alone  were  partly  clad,  while  the  younger  members  of 
the  family  wore  merely  a piece  of  twine  around  the  loiiTs, 
on  which,  in  front,  hung  a silver  coin  symbolical  of  cloth- 
ing. Arms  and  legs  were  ornamented  with  silver  bangles. 

Here  I beheld  the  most  perfect  types  of  the  Singhalese 
form,  and  the  sight  was  all  the  more  interesting  from  the 
fact  that  the  inhabitants  of  this  part  of  the  coast  are 
famous  for  their  pure,  unmixed  Singhalese  blood.  The 
elegant  and  voluptuous  forms  of  the  elder  girls,  whose  feet 
and  hands  were  conspicuously  small,  represented  a large 
proportion  of  the  thirty-two  attributes  which,  according  to 
the  Singhalese  poets,  are  necessary  for  perfect  beauty — above 
all  long,  black,  curly  hair,  almond-shaped  eyes,  swelling- 
lips,  bosom  like  young  cocoanuts,  etc.  The  complex- 
ion is  cinnamon-brown  in  all  its  different  shades;  the 
younger  children  are  the  lighter.  The  fortunate  mother 
of  these  sixteen  handsome  children  (a  stout  smiling  matron 
of  perhaps  forty)  was  highly  gratified  when  William  inter- 
preted for  her  benefit  the  aesthetic  admiration  I expressed 
for  her  domestic  felicity. 

In  the  afternoon  the  chief  and  his  elder  sons  conducted 
me  to  a small  Buddha  temple,  some  distance  from  the  vil- 
lage, beside  which  stands  a Bo-tree  said  to  be  very  ancient. 
I found  this  specimen  of  the  sacred  fig  a magnificent  fel- 
low indeed,  beside  whom  all  the  rest  of  the  trees  in  the  grove 
were  but  mere  saplings.  His  mighty  trunk  branches  into 
two  powerful  arms,  from  whose  shoulders  depends  a lovely 
green  mantle  of  lianas.  Other  closely-interwoven  climbers 
cover  his  trunk,  beside  which  the  diminutive  temple  looks 
like  the  habitation  of  a dwarf.  The  grounds  around  it  are 
embellished  with  ornamental  plants,  among  which  the  sin- 
gular Amorphophallus  is  conspicuous  by  its  crimson  spadix 
and  huge  tuft  of  tattered  foliage. 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


161 


It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  I returned  to  Mirissa, 
where  I found  another  repast  of  bananas  and  cocoa  milk 
awaiting  me.  The  entire  population  escorted  me  to  the 
shore*  where  I reluctantly  bade  adieu  to  my  generous  hosts* 
who,  during  our  brief  acquaintance*  had  exhibited  all  the 
most  amiable  qualities  of  the  Singhalese  character.  I was 
very  sorry  I had  not  brought  some  picture  books  with  which 
to  emphasize  my  gratitude  more  substantially;  in  lieu  of 
them  I presented  the  chief  with  a pocket-knife  and  one  of 
the  large  jars  I had  with  me  for  the  reception  of  captured 
sea  animals.  Shortly  before  sundown  we  again  doubled 
Mirissa  Point*  and  at  the  entrance  to  Belligam  harbor  were 
greeted  by  a sight  I shall  never  forget.  On  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  harbor*  above  Mirissa  Point*  towers,  bastion- 
like* a row  of  perpendicular  cliffs*  of  shapely  form*  whosq^ 
reddish  tint*  even  in  the  customary  light  of  day*  vies  with 
the  intense  hue  of  fresh-baked  bricks.  From  them  is  de- 
rived the  local  name  of  the  bay*  the  “Red  Bay”  of  the 
ancient  charts.  Now*  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun*  they 
glowed  like  coals  of  fire*  while  their  shadows  were  the  most 
brilliant  cobalt  blue.  I understood  why  the  Mirissa  people 
spoke  of  them  as  the  “red  lamps*”  “ Ratu-Pana”.  The 
eastern  sky  above  these  rocks  of  fire  was  a pale  green*  while 
the  cloud  masses  heaped  along  the  horizon  were  tinted 
with  the  most  exquisite  roseate  hues.  Add  to  these  the 
warm  brown  of  the  cocoa  and  pandanus  groves*  the  deepest* 
darkest  green  and  violet  of  the  shimmering  water*  and  you 
have  a color-concert  of  the  highest  class*  such  as  I never 
saw  before  and  never  expect  to  see  again.  The  hasty  color- 
sketch  I made  of  it  while  in  the  boat  will  serve  merely  to 
recall  the  magnificent  spectacle*  and  yet  what  would  the 
Berlin  art-critics  say  to  such  a display  of  color  ? — those 
wise  judges  who  condemn  every  picture  that  fails  to  con- 
form in  coloring  and  composition  to  the  .meagre  and  defec- 
tive standard  of  North  Germany!  Were  they  not  unani- 
mous in  their  condemnation  of  Ernst  Koerner’s  splendid 
picture*  in  which  the  daring  artist  represents  a sunset'  in 
Alexandria  as  brilliantly  as  it  is  true  to  nature?  And  yet 
the  latter  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  gorgeous  spec- 
tacle of  Mirissa  as  the  scant  vegetation  of  Egypt  does  to 
the  wanton  exuberance  of  Ceylon.  However  what  will  not 
bloom  along  the  Spree  may  not  be  found  in  India  ! Were 


162 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


not  many  of  Edouard  Hildebrand’s  color-effects  pronounced 
“exaggerated,”  when  “too  weak”  might  have  been  more 
properly  applied?  But  enchanting  natural  exhibitions 
like  these  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated. 


XIY. 

Kogalla  akd  Boralu. 

Amokg  the  more  distant  excursions  I undertook  from 
Belligam  into  the  surrounding  country,  those  to  Kogalla 
and  Boralu  are  recalled  with  greatest  pleasure,  and  are  of 
sufficient  interest  to  deserve  brief  mention.  Among  the 
numerous  extensive  lagoons  along  the  south-west  coast  of 
Ceylon  which  connect  many  of  the  rivers  debouching  on 
the  sea  between  Colombo  and  Matura,  Kogalla-  Were  a , the 
“ Rocky  Lake,”  is  distinguished  by  extraordinary  size  and 
picturesque  beauty.  This  lagoon  lies  half  way  between 
Point  de  Galle  and  Belligam,  and  is  of  considerable  extent, 
as  numerous  arms  stretch  in  different  directions.  Its  banks 
everywhere  form  densely-wooded  hills,  above  which  rise 
the  crests  of  multitudes  of  cocoa-palms.  Numbers  of  tiny 
islands,  some  of  them  bare  rocks,  and  some  covered  with 
palm-grove  or  jungle,  lend  a peculiar  charm  to  the  diversi- 
fied scenery,  as  do  also  the  idyllic  habitations  of  the  Sin- 
ghalese, which  are  scattered  in  groups  and  singly  through- 
out the  verdant  thickets.  The  vegetation  is  of  a crisp 
freshness  that  cannot  be  surpassed.  It  was  a lovely  Sunday 
morning  (December  18th)  when  I took  my  departure  from 
Belligam  before  sunrise,  in  order  to  reach  Kogalla  in  good 
season.  My  hospitable  friend  from  Point  de  Galle,  Mr. 
Scott,  whom  I was  to  meet  at  Kogalla,  had  sent  a servant 
with  a light  wagon  and  fleet  pony  to  fetch  me  from  Belli- 
gam; and  as  we  drove  swiftly  through  the  primitive  villages 
along  the  Galle  road  the  indolent  inhabitants  were  just 
rising  from  their  palm  conches  and  preparing  for  a morn- 
ing bath.  Directly  the  young  sunbeams  penetrated  the 
dew-bespangled  groves  they  became  alive  with  sound  and 
motion,  and  I enjoyed  anew  the  delicious  morning  life  of 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


163 


he  tropics  which  had  so  often  before  enchanted  me.  My 
rrival  at  the  place  of  appointment  preceded  the  time 
^reed  upon  by  a whole  hour;  I had,  therefore,  sufficient 
me  for  a leisurely  ramble  through  the  beautiful  grove. 
With  Mr.  Scott  came  another  German  countryman,  Herr 
Reimer,  a native  of  Hamburg,  at  present  engaged  in  mer- 
cantile business  in  India.  He  had  been  on  a pleasure  ex- 
cursion to  Bombay,  and  was  on  his  way  back  to  Singapore, 
when  chance  willed  that  he  should  favor  us  with  his  com- 
pany the  day  before  he  set  sail  for  that  busy  port.  We 
drove  a short  distance  farther  through  the  palm  gardens, 
and  stopped  at  a hut  on  the  bank  of  the  Kogalla  Lake. 
Here,  a double  canoe,  that  had  been  tastefully  decorated 
by  its  Singhalese  crew  with  garlands  of  flowers  and  a 
canopy  of  braided  palm  leaves,  was  waiting  for  us.  These 
double  boats,  which  are  in  great  favor  on  the  lagoons  as 
well  as  on  the  larger  rivers,  are  constructed  of  two  hollow 
parallel  logs,  from  sixteen  to  twenty  feet  long,  with  a space 
of  five  or  six  feet  between  them.  Stout  planks  are  fastened 
on  them,  and  over  these  are  laid -boards.  Right  and  left 
are  the  slender  stems  of  young  areca  palms  which  support 
a canopy  of  pandanus  mats.  Leaves  of  the  fan-palm  are 
stretched  curtain-wise  between  the  supports.  The  benches, 
which  are  ranged  along  both  sides  of  this  floating  arbor, 
offer  a shady  seat  from  which  one  may  comfortably  view  the 
surrounding  lake  scenery.  Six  or  eight  powerful  oarsmen 
squat  in  the  hollow  logs,  either  in  front  or  in  the  rear  of 
the  platform. 

The  narrow  arm  of  the  lagoon  from  which  we  sailed 
opens  into  the  more  extensive  basin  through  a gateway 
formed  by  three  immense  cliffs.  These  granite  blocks  are 
called  the  “ Three  Brothers”  ( Tunamalaja ),  and  are  the 
favorite  resort  for  numerous  large  crocodiles.  No  swimmer 
would  be  allowed  to  pass  unharmed  between  these  hideous 
sentinels,  who  lie  here  all  day  long  sunning  themselves  with 
widely-gaping  jaws. 

The  lagoon  is  encircled  by  dense  forests,  beyond  which 
rise  smiling  hills  covered  with  palms.  But  the  principal 
charm  of  the  lagoon  is  its  pretty  little  islands  decked  with 
cocoa-palms.  The  slender,  gracefully-curved  white  stems 
incline  in  every  direction,  so  that  those  nearest  the  shore 
are  reflected  entire  in  the  waveless  surface  of  the  lake, 


164 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


while  those  farther  inland  stand  proudly  upright  with  theh| 
feathered  crests  raised  towards  heaven.  A perfect  modJ 
of  such  a cocoa  bouquet  is  the  charming  little  Gan-Duv® 
which  lies  in  the  harbor  of  Belligam  immediately  in  ivorm 
of  the  rest-house.  ^ 

We  landed  on  a little  cocoa  island  of  this  sort  in  Kogalla 
Lake,  to  pay  a visit  to  the  happy  family  living  in  the  midst 
of  the  lovely  palm  bouquet.  Three  naked  children,  who  had 
been  frolicking  among  the  rocks  along  the  shore,  at  our 
approach  ran  screaming  with  terror  towards  their  mother. 
The  handsome  young  matron,  with  a fourth  child  in  her 
arms,  seemed  aiso  alarmed  by  the  strange  visitors,  and  hur- 
ried with  her  little  ones  into  the  bamboo  hut.  Her  hus- 
band, who  had  been  digging  sweet  potatoes  in  the  garden, 
now  appeared.  The  shapely,  handsome  fellow — he  was  en- 
tirely naked  except  the  narrow  strip  of  cloth  around  his 
loins — came  forward,  and  after  respectfully  saluting  us, 
asked  whether  we  would  like  to  refresh  ourselves  with  some 
curumba  (young  cocoanuts).  On  our  gratefully  assenting 
he  immediately  climbed  one  of  the  tallest  palms,  and  flung 
down  half  a dozen  of  the  fine  golden  fruit  known  here  as  the 
“ king’s  cocoanut.”  The  cool,  delicious  water  it  contains  is 
very  like  lemonade,  and  is  wonderfully  refreshing.  Then 
he  offered  us  some  luscious  bananas  on  a large  caladium  leaf, 
and  conducted  us  into  his  garden,  in  which  he  cultivates  a 
number  of  choice  tropical  plants.  In  answer  to  our  query 
whether  he  could  grow  enough  to  supply  the  needs  of  his 
family  for  the  entire  year,  he  informed  us  that  in  addition 
to  the  products  of  his  garden,  he  caught  fish  and  crabs  in 
the  lake,  and  that  he  sold  enough  of  these  and  of  the  fruits 
and  vegetables  he  could  not  use,  to  buy  all  the  rice  and 
household  articles  required  by  his  family — more  he  did  not 
need,  or  want.  Enviable  family  ! In  your  little  cocoa 
world  you  live  as  in  a veritable  paradise,  and  no  covetous 
neighbor  disturbs  your  happiness  and  peace  ! 

We  rowed  farther  out  on  the  lake  to  a rock  island,  from 
whose  dense  shrubbery  peered  the  white  dagoba  tower  of  a 
Buddhist  temple.  A flight  of  stone  steps  leads  from  the 
shore  to  the  temple,  on  whose  altar  devout  worshippers  had 
scattered  offerings  of  fragrant  flowers.  The  rude  wall- 
paintings,  as  well  as  the  gigantic  image  of  Buddha,  are  not 
different  from  those  I saw  in  other  Buddhist  temples.  In 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


165 


e rear  of  the  temple  are  the  habitations  of  tho  priests, 
turesquely  situated  in  the  shade  of  a large  Bo-tree,  and 
ording  a fine  view  of  the  lagoon;  the  red  cliffs  form 
atural  terraces.  A couple  of  tall  kitool  palms,  as  well  as 
handsome  group  of  cocoa  and  areca  palms,  are  as  effective 
in  the  adornment  of  this  charming  picture  as  are  the  luxu- 
riant vines  of  all  sorts  that  festoon  the  crowns  of  several 
mighty  cashew  trees  ( Anacardium ).  It  was  intensely  hot 
when  at  noon  we  rowed  back  to  the  chief’s  hut.  The  per- 
fectly motionless  water  reflected  the  direct  rays  of  the 
glowing  sun  like  polished  metal;  we  were  therefore  agreea- 
bly surprised  to  find  the  temperature  in  the  dusky  interior 
of  the  hut  delightfully  cool,  and  enjoyed  the  elaborate  lun- 
cheon which  had  been  prepared  for  us  by  Mr.  Scott’s  ser- 
vant with  a keen  relish.  The  meal  over,  and  while  my 
friends  indulged  in  a siesta,  I rowed  across  the  lagoon  to 
visit  the  two  large  Buddha  temples  on  the  opposite  shore, 
and  to  gather  some  of  the  splendid  orchids  and  spice  lilies 
(Marantacece)  growing  there.  I also  enriched  my  sketch- 
book with  several  charming  subjects,  and  had  to  pay  for 
the  pleasure  with  my  blood,  as  multitudes  of  pestiferous 
leeches  infest  the  grass  along  the  shore. 

No  less  attractive  if  not  so  extensive  as  Kogalla-Wewa, 
is  another  lagoon,  Boralu-Wewa,  or  “ Pebble  Lake,”  which 
I visited  several  times.  I am  indebted  for  the  pleasant 
days  I spent  there  to  the  second  head-man  of  Belligam,  the 
excellent  Arachy. 

He  owns  a large  tract  of  land  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  the  lagoon,  that  is  planted  partly  with  fruits  of  various 
kinds  and  partly  with  lemon  grass,  in  the  cultivation  of  which 
from  thirty  to  forty  laborers  are  employed.  The  road  to 
Boralu  traverses  the  luxuriant  hill  country,  which  stretches 
for  many  miles  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 

The  first  natural  curiosity  encountered  on  this  road  is  a 
mighty  cocoa-palm,  one  mile  from  Belligam,  whose  stem 
is  divided  into  three  branches,  each  bearing  a crown  of 
foliage.  This  is  an  abnormity  of  rare  occurrence.  The 
second  wonder  is  found  a mile  farther  on,  on  the  hither 
shore  of  the  Polwatta  River,  beside  a Buddha  temple  at  the 
end  of  the  bridge.  It  is  a magnificent  old  banyan  tree, 
fantastically  garlanded  with  lianas  of  all  sorts.  On  the 
further  shore  of  the  river,  near  Dena-Pitya  ( i.e.y  cattle 


166 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


field),  is  another  huge  banyan,  a very  giant  of  his  order J 
and  one  of  the  largest  of  these,  most  remarkable  trees  im 
existence.  The  enormous  crown,  under  which  more  than  a 
hundred  huts  might  find  room  and  shade,  is  supported  bjl 
multitudes  of  powerful  stems,  each  one  of  which  would; 
deserve  admiration  were  it  a single  tree.  These  huge 
trunks  are  nothing  but  the  air-roots  which  have  grown 
from  the  branches  of  the  main  stem.  Between  them  hang- 
numbers  of  smaller  roots  which  have  not  yet  reached  the 
ground,  and  which  elucidate  the  origin  of  the  numerous 
supports.  The  densest  shadow  reigns  beneath  the  leafy 
canopy  through  which  no  ray  of  light  ever  penetrates;  and 
one  can  readily  understand  why  the  superstitious  Buddhist 
approaches  his  sacred  fig  tree  with  timid  reverence  and 
awe. 

A natural  curiosity  of  quite  a different  order  is  to  be 
found  in  the  village  of  Dena-Pitya.  It  is  a woman  of  per- 
haps fifty  years,  in  whom  the  bones  of  the  thighs  are 
entirely  wanting.  The  upper  part  of  her  body,  which  is 
well  formed  and  fully  developed,  rests  on  the  lower  bones 
of  the  leg.  This  singular  deformity  is  all  the  more  curious 
from  the  fact  that  the  woman  has  borne  three  well-formed 
children,  who,  like  the  mother,  have  only  four  toes  on  each 
foot.  Unfortunately  a closer  investigation  is  not  per- 
mitted. 

If  you  follow  the  road  eastward  from  Dena-Pitya  for 
several  miles  you  will  arrive  at  the  celebrated  “gem  pits,” 
which,  in  the  preceding  century,  were  reputed  to  have 
been  exceedingly  productive.  At  present  they  seem  to  be 
exhausted,  but  a large  diamond  had  been  lately  found  that 
was  sold  for  £400.  This,  of  course,  had  attracted  numbers 
of  gem  hunters  to  the  deserted  pits,  and  the  day  I visited 
them,  from  160  to  180  laborers  were  busily  washing  and 
sifting  gravel  in  the  different  excavations. 

From  Dena-Pitya  the  road  to  Boralu  trends  in  a north- 
easterly direction,  now  through  lovely  palm-forest,  now 
through  luxuriant  jungle,  now  across  pale  green  pad(ly 
fields  or  marshy  meadows,  in  which  black  buffaloes  with 
their  attendant  herons  wallow  in  the  mud.  Several  miles 
farther  on  we  come  to  the  lagoon,  whose  entire  shore  is 
adorned  with  the  most  exuberant  vegetation.  Around  it 
on  every  side  rise  densely-wooded  hills.  A small  island, 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON. 


167 


hed  with  verdant  thicket,  lies  solitary  and  alone 
middle  of  the  lagoon.  But  its  greatest  charm  is 
erfect  solitude  and  absence  of  all  human  culture. 
„n  the  road  which  skirts  its  banks  does  not  betray  the 
sence  of  man,  for  it  is  quite  hidden  by  the  tall  shrubbery, 
he  lagoon,  as  well  as  the  adjacent  region,  is  rich  in  ani- 
nal  life.  As  often  as  I visited  it  I found  large  green  lizards 
from  six  to  seven  feet  long  sunning  themselves  on  the 
shore,  and  once  I was  startled  by  an  enormous  snake 
( Python  molurus)  about  twenty  feet  long.  Unfortunately 
the  monster  slipped  into  the  water  before  I could  get  a 
shot  at  him.  Exciting  sport  is  offered  by  the  apes,  whose 
grunts  are  heard  on  every  side.  I shot  several  fine  ex- 
amples of  the  yellow-brown  “rilawa”  ( Macacus  sinicus ), 
and  the  large  black  wanderoo  ( Presbytis  cephalopterus). 
But  the  most  fruitful  chase  was  after  water-fowl,  especially 
the  different  species  of  coot,  herons,  ibis,  flamingoes,  peli- 
cans, etc.  Large  flocks  of  these  birds  at-  sundown  fly 
across  the  lagoon  to  their  nightly  quarters.  I once  brought 
down  half  a dozen  in  a quarter  of  an  hour.  Numbers  of 
smaller  birds  inhabit  the  thick  brushwood  along  the  shore, 
which  is  profusely  adorned  with  splendid  golden  cassia 
flowers  and  the  crimson  blossoms  of  the  melastoma. 

Not  far  from  the  northern  extremity  of  the ‘lagoon,  and 
separated  from  it  by  one  or  two  wooded  hills,  lies  the 
Arachy’s  woodland  garden,  a charming  spot  in  which  I 
spent  four  delightful  days.  The  simple  reed  hut  in  which 
I lodged  is  entirely  hidden  by  banana  trees,  and  stands  on 
the  slope  of  a hill,  from  which  there  is  a fine  view  of  the 
verdant  meadows,  dark  forests,  and  glimmering  lagoons  of 
the  surrounding  country;  the  distant  background  is  formed 
by  the  blue  mountains  of  the  central  highlands.  Of  the 
laborers’  huts  scattered  throughout  the  forest  there  is 
nothing  to  be  seen,  and  the  delightful  impression  of  abso- 
lute solitude  is  heightened  by  the  unusually  rich  develop- 
ment of  animal  life.  I shot  numbers  of  beautiful  birds, 
apes,  flying  foxes,  lizards,  etc.,  and  once  a large  porcupine 
(Hystrix  leucura)  over  three  feet  long. 

Gorgeous  butterflies  and  beetles  are  also  numerous.  The 
meadows  in  the  vicinity  of  the  lagoon  are  covered  with 
gigantic  specimens  of  the  curious  insectivorous  pitcher- 
plant  ( Nepenthes  distillatoria).  The  elegant  pitchers, 


168 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


six  inches  long  at  the  termination  of  the  leaves,  are^B’  b-fi 
with  dainty  lids,  and  frequently  filled  with  captive  iSK'stp 
Brilliant  Ampelidce  and  lovely  Nectarinice,  like  the  n^K: 
ming-birds  which  they  strongly  resemble,  sport  among 
flowers  in  great  numbers.  S 

A ramble  around  the  glittering  lagoon  will  lead  yoB 
through  the  most  beautiful  part  of  the  woodland.  In  som^ 
places  the  vines  which  overrun  the  fallen  trees  form  so  im- 
penetrable a barrier  that  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  force 
your  way  through  the  vegetable  chaos  without  the  aid  of 
an  axe.  Aristolochias,  pepper-vines,  bauhinias,  and  big- 
nonias  everywhere  twist  and  twine  among  the  branches  in 
such  a manner  that  only  an  occasional  sunbeam  penetrates 
the  tangled  mass.  The  trunks  of  the  trees  are  covered  with 
parasitic  ferns  and  orchids.  Often  I sat  for  hours  intent 
upon  securing  a copy  of  this  forest  picture  for  my  sketch- 
book. Usually,  however,  my  intentions  were  without  re- 
sult, my  attempts  futile.  It  was  utterly  impossible  to 
adequately  portray  the  bewildering  loveliness  of  the  scene. 
Nor  was  the  photographic  camera  of  any  assistance.  The 
verdant  tangle  was  so  dense,  so  intricate,  that  a photograph 
would  have  reproduced  only  a confused  medley  of  stems, 
branches,  foliage,  etc. 

On  the  slopes  of  the  hills  which  encircle  his  garden  the 
Arachy  cultivates  lemon  grass,  from  which,  by  a simple 
process  of  distillation,  is  extracted  the  odorous  lemon-oil, 
a highly-prized  perfume.  The  lemon-like  fragrance  per- 
fumes the  whole  neighborhood.  The  laborers  employed  in 
the  distillery  and  in  cultivating  the  banana  plants,  live  in 
the  tiny  huts  scattered  throughout  the  grove;  groups  of 
slender  cocoa  and  areca  palms,  as  well  as  sturdy  kitools  and 
talipots,  whose  feathered  crests  tower  above  the  lower  trees, 
betray  the  hiding-places  of  these  bamboo  habitations.  My 
visits  to  the  latter,  and  friendly  intercourse  with  their 
dusky  occupants,  made  me  almost  envy  the  lot  of  this 
simple  and  contented  nature-folk.  They  are  pure  Sin- 
ghalese, with  clear  bronze  complexions  and  delicate  forms. 
The  nimble  boys  were  of  great  assistance  to  me  in  collect- 
ing plants  and  insects,  while  the  graceful  black-eyed  girls 
decorated  my  little  bullock  cart  with  garlands  of  flowers. 

When,  late  in  the  evening,  the  swift-footed  zebu  was 
harnessed,  and  the  two-wheeled  cart,  in  which  there  was 


INDIA  AND  CEYLON 


169 


om  for  me  beside  the  Arachy,  was  set  in  motion, 


lm  leaves.  I could  not  sufficiently  admire  their  persever- 
nce  and  fleetness  of  motion. 

When  we  entered  the  darkening  grove,  the  boys  would 
kindle  torches  and  run  in  front  of  the  cart  to  light  the 
way.  At  an  abrupt  turn  of  the  road  we  would  occasion- 
ally be  deluged  with  a shower  of  fragrant  blossoms,  a ripple 
of  laughter  in  the  dense  shrubbery  betraying  the  pranks 
of  the  mischievous  dryads  in  hiding  there.  Among  the 
latter  was  a niece  of  the  Arachy ’s,  whose  perfect  form  might 
have  served  as  a model  for  a sculptor,  while  the  beauty  of 
several  of  the  lads  rivalled  even  that  of  Ganymede. 

One  of  the  nimble  fellows  would  occasionally  swing  him- 
self to  the  pole  of  our  swiftly-rolling  cart,  then  leap  dex- 
trously  over  the  zebu.  With  such  performances  the  Boralu 
children  would  accompany  us  a long  distance,  then  vanish 
one  by  one  into  the  darkness  of  the  night.  And  now,  in- 
stead of  the  palm  torches  of  our  merry  escort,  myriads  of 
fireflies  and  glow-worms  would  illumine  the  forest,  while  I 
and  the  Arachy,  each  busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  drove 
swiftlv  toward  the  quiet  rest-house  of  Belligam. 


XV. 


Matuea  AHD  Do^deka. 


The  most  distant  excursion  I made  during  my  sojourn 
in  Belligam,  was  to  the  southern  point  of  Ceylon,  the  long- 
celebrated  Thunder  Cape,  Dondera  Head.  Near  this 
point,  but  a few  miles  to  the  westward,  is  the  city  of  Ma- 
tura,  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Nilwella-ganga  (blue 
sand  river).  The  road  from  Belligam  to  Matura,  which  I 
traversed  in  three  hours  on  the  morning  of  the  18th  of 
January,  is  a continuation  of  the  beautiful  palm  avenue 
from  Galle  to  Belligam,  and  abounds  in  the  same  pictu- 
resque and  agreeably  diversified  scenery. 


3 0112  0 # *«>«>*». — 

Matura,  which  is  the  most  southerly  of  Ceylon’s 
during  the  reign  of  the  Dutch,  in  the  seventeenth  o 
a prosperous  and  important  commercial  station,  and 
principal  port  for  the  cinnamon  trade  of  the  South  Pr 
ince.  The  most  imposing  buildings  in  the  city,  as  well  a. 
the  considerable  fort  near  the  mouth  of  the  river  on  th 
east  bank,  betray  their  Dutch  origin.  The  noble  stream 
is  here  about  the  width  of  the  Elbe  at  Dresden,  and  is 
spanned  by  a handsome  new  iron  suspension  bridge.  At 
the  western  end  of  the  bridge,  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
river,  is  the  ancient  “star  fort”  of  the  Dutch,  m whose 
angular  casemates,  at  the  invitation  of  several  hospitable 
English  officers,  I took  up  my  abode  for  three  or  four  days. 
The  three  jolly  bachelors  had  made  themselves  very  com- 
fortable in  the  low,  many  angled  chambers  of  the  ancient 
fortress,  whose  massive  stone  walls  preserved  the  most  de- 
lightful coolness.  The  walls  were  tastefully  adorned,  part- 
ly5 with  wood-cuts  from  various  illustrated  newspapers,  and 
partly  with  Singhalese  weapons,  curiosities,  and  skins  of 
animals.  Through  the  ancient  Dutch  gateway,  above 
which  the  inscription,  “ Redoute  van  Eck”  may  still  be 
seen,  you  enter  a neat  flower  garden;  luxuriant  creepers 
and  climbers  decorate  the  embrasures  in  the  walls  and  the 
draw-well  in  the  centre  of  the  garden.  A pair  of.  tame 
apes  and  a comical  old  pelican,  as  well  as  some  smaLxfnds, 
furnish  continual  amusement.  / , 

A refreshing  bath  and  an  excellent  Englisj^breaktast 
with  my  friendly  hosts,  which  was  keenly  rohshed  after  the 
vegetarian  diet  of  Belligam,  so  restored  me  that  1 was 
ready  in  a few  hours  after  my  arrival  for  an  exclusion  o 
Dondera.  This  I undertook  in  a carriage,  accompanied  by 
the  Chief  Ilaugakuhn,  the  most  distinguished  Singhalese 
on  the  island.  He  is  the  last  male  descendant  of  the  ill  us- 
trious  race  of  ancient  Kandyan  kings,  and  has  fca  ven  up  11s 
residence  in  Matura  in  a large,  handsome,  indeed,  almost 
sumptuous  palace,  near  the  mouth  of  the  river.  He  had 
called  to  see  me  at  Belligam  the  week  before,  had  presented 
me  with  several  rare  and  beautiful  birds,  and  invited  me  to 
visit  him  at  Matura.  His  reception  of  me  was  as  cordial  as 
it  was  flattering.  He  would  not  allow  any  one  but  himse 
to  drive  me  to  Dondera.  Sis  equipage  consisted  of  an  ele- 
gant English  phaeton,  drawn  by  two  splendid  Australian 


